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KNIGHTHOOD 
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FLOWER 


X  5€   THEATRE 


EDWIN  CASKODEN 


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UNIVERSITY  OF 

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Anna  Pay  as  Mary  Tudor. — Frontispiece. 


jt,     jt     THEATRE  EDITION    jt     ^ 

WHEN  KNIGHTHOOD 
WAS    IN    FLOWER 

OR,  THE  LOVE  STORY  OF  CHARLES  BRANDON 
AND  MARY  TUDOR,  THE  KING'S  SISTER,  AND 
HAPPENING  IN  THE  REIGN  OF  HIS  AUGUST 
MAJESTY  KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH      :     :     :     : 


REWRITTEN  AND  RENDERED  INTO  MODERN   ENGLISH 
FROM    SIR    EDWIN  CASKODEN'S  MEMOIR 

BY 

EDWIN    CASKODEN  p^JLuJ ^ 

{Charks  Major)  ^ 


IFITH  NUMEROUS  SCENES 
FROM  THE  PLAY 


NEW  YORK 
GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  NINETY-EIGHT, 
NINETEEN  HUNDRED  ONE,  AND  NINETEEN  HUN- 
DRED   SEVEN,     BY     THE     BOBBS-MERRILL    COMPANY 


'There  Hved  a  Knight,  when  Knighthood  was  In  flowV* 
Who  charmed  alike  the  tilt-^ard  and  the  bowV.* 


to  (V^^  TKHite 


*  **  Cloth  of  gold  do  not  despise. 

Though  thou  be  match^  d  with  cloth  offriZii 

Cloth  offrixe,  be  not  too  bold. 

Though  thou  be  mat  cK  d  with  cloth  of  gold.** 


*  Inscription  on  a  label  affixed  to  Brandon's  lance  under  a  picture  of 
Mary  Tudor  and  Charles  Brandon,  at  Strawberry  Hill. 


CONTENTS 


The  Caskodcns  t 

I  The  Duel  6 

n  How  Brandon  Came  to  Court  13 

in  The  Princess  Mary  23 

IV  Pi,  Lesson  in  Dancingf  45 

V  Aji  Honor  and  an  Enemy  74 

VI  A.  Rare  Ride  to  "Windsor  89 

Vn  Love's  Fierce  Sweetness  J  02 

Vm  The  Trouble  in  Billingsgate  "Ward  J  28 

DC  P'lt  Not  Your  Trust  in  Princesses  ii6 

X  Justice,  O  King!  169 


CONTENTS 

X:  LotMS  Xn  a  SuHof  182 

Xn  Atonement  202 

Xm  A  Gtrrs  Consent  2J3 

XIV  In  the  Siren  Country  226 

XV  To  Make  a  Man  of  Her  244 

XVI  A  Hawking  Party  256 

XVII  The  Elopement  265 

XVm  To  the  Tower  289 

XIX  Proserpina  302 

XX  Down  into  France  320 

XXI  Letters  from  a  Qtteea  537 


TObcn  lkn(obtboo^  TlClae  in  flower 


mflben  IktiiGbtboob 
Xmias  in  jflowcr.... 

Z^/?e    Ca^Kpdens 

WE  Caskodens  take  great  pride  in  our  ancestry. 
Some  persons,  I  know,  hold  all  that  to  be 
totally  un-Solomonlike  and  the  height  of 
vanity,  but  they,  usually,  have  no  ancestors  of  whom 
to  be  proud.  The  man  who  does  not  know  who  his 
great-grandfather  was,  naturally  enough  would  not 
care  what  he  was.  The  Caskodens  have  pride  of 
ancestry  because  they  know  both  who  and  what. 

Even  admitting  that  it  is  vanity  at  all,  it  is  an  im- 
personal sort  of  failing,  which,  like  the  excessive 
love  of  country,  leans  virtueward ;  for  the  man  who 
fears  to  disgrace  his  ancestors  is  certainly  less  likely 
to  disgrace  himself.  Of  course  there  are  a  gieat 
many  excellent  persons  who  can  go  no  farther  back 
than  father  and  mother,  who,  doubtless,  eat  and 
drink  and  sleep  as  well,  and  love  as  happily,  as  if 
they  could  trace  an  unbroken  lineage  clear  back  to 
Adam  or  Noah,  or  somebody  of  that  sort.  Never- 
theless, we  Caskodens  are  proud  of  our  ancestry, 
and  expect  to  remain  so  to  the  end  of  the  chapter, 
regardless  of  whom  it  pleases  or  displeases. 

(I) 


2       tOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flotver 

We  have  a  right  to  be  proud,  for  there  is  an  un- 
broken male  Hne  from  William  the  Conqueror  down 
to  the  present  time.  In  this  lineal  list  are  fourteen 
Barons — the  title  lapsed  when  Charles  I  fell — twelve 
Knights  of  the  Garter  and  forty-seven  Knights  of 
the  Bath  ancv  other  orders.  A  Caskoden  distin- 
guished himself  by  gallant  service  under  the  Great 
Norman  and  was  given  rich  English  lands  and  a  fair 
Saxon  bride,  albeit  an  unwilling  one,  as  his  reward. 
With  this  fair,  unwilling  Saxon  bride  and  her  long 
plait  of  yellow  hair  goes  a  very  pretty,  pathetic 
story,  which  I  may  tell  you  at  some  future  time  if 
you  take  kindly  to  this.  A  Caskoden  was  seneschal 
to  William  Rufus,  and  sat  at  the  rich,  half  barbaric 
banquets  in  the  first  Great  Hall.  Still  another  was 
one  of  the  doughty  barons  who  wrested  from  John 
the  Great  Charter,  England's  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence ;  another  was  high  in  the  councils  of 
Henry  V.  I  have  omitted  one  whom  I  should  not 
fail  to  mention :  Adjodika  Caskoden,  who  was  a 
member  of  the  Dunce  Parliament  of  Henry  IV,  so 
called  because  there  were  no  lawyers  in  it. 

It  is  true  that  in  the  time  of  Edward  IV  a  Casko- 
den did  stoop  to  trade,  but  it  was  trade  of  the  most 
dignified,  honorable  sort;  he  was  a  goldsmith,  and 
his  guild,  as  you  know,  were  the  bankers  and  inter- 
national clearance  house  for  people,  king  and  nobles. 
Besides,  it  is  stated  on  good  authority  that  there  was 
a  great  scandal  wherein  the  goldsmith's  wife  w&» 
mixed  up  in  an  intrigue  with  the  noble  King  Ea- 


The  Ca^Koden^  3 

ward ;  so  we  learn  that  even  in  trade  the  Caskodens 
were  of  honorable  position  and  basked  in  the  smile 
of  their  prince.  As  for  myself,  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  object  so  much  to  trade ;  and  I  think  it  con- 
temptible in  a  man  to  screw  his  nose  all  out  of  place 
sneering  at  it,  while  enjoying  every  luxury  of  life 
from  its  profits. 

This  goldsmith  was  shrewd  enough  to  turn  what 
some  persons  might  call  his  ill  fortune,  in  one  way, 
into  gain  in  another.  He  was  one  of  those  happily 
constituted,  thrifty  philosophers  who  hold  that  even 
misfortune  should  not  be  wasted,  and  that  no  evil 
is  so  great  but  the  alchemy  of  common  sense  can 
transmute  some  part  of  it  into  good.  So  he  coined  the 
smiles  which  the  king  shed  upon  his  wife — he  being 
powerless  to  prevent,  for  Edward  smiled  where  he 
listed,  and  listed  nearly  everywhere — into  nobles, 
crowns  and  pounds  sterling,  and  left  a  glorious  for- 
tune to  his  son  and  to  his  son's  son,  unto  about  the 
fourth  generation,  which  was  a  ripe  old  age  for  a 
fortune,  I  think.  How  few  of  them  live  beyond  the 
second,  and  fewer  still  beyond  the  third !  It  was 
during  the  third  generation  of  this  fortune  that  the 
events  of  the  following  history  occurred. 

Now,  it  has  been  the  custom  of  the  Caskodens  for 
centuries  to  keep  a  record  of  events,  as  they  have 
happened,  both  private  and  public.  Some  are  in  the 
form  of  diaries  and  journals  like  those  of  Pepys 
and  Evelyn ;  others  in  letters  like  the  Pastons' ; 
others  again  in  verse  and  song  like  Chaucer's  and 


4       tOhen  K.nighihood  Wa^  in  Flotuer 

the  Water  Poet's ;  and  still  others  in  the  more  pre- 
tentious  form  of  memoir  and  chronicle.  These 
records  we  always  have  kept  jealously  within  our 
family,  thinking  it  vulgar,  like  the  Pastons,  to  sub- 
mit our  private  affairs  to  public  gaze. 

There  can,  however,  be  no  reason  why  those  parts 
treating  solely  of  outside  matters  should  be  so  care- 
fully guarded,  and  I  have  determined  to  choose  for 
publication  such  portions  as  do  not  divulge  family 
secrets  nor  skeletons,  and  which  really  redound  to 
family  honor. 

For  this  occasion  I  have  selected  from  the  memoir 
of  my  worthy  ancestor  and  namesake,  Sir  Edwin 
Caskoden — grandson  of  the  goldsmith,  and  Master 
of  the  Dance  to  Henry  VIII — the  story  of  Charles 
Brandon  and  Mary  Tudor,  sister  to  the  king. 

This  story  is  so  well  known  to  the  student  of  Eng- 
lish history  that  I  fear  its  repetition  will  lack  that 
zest  which  attends  the  development  of  an  unfore- 
seen denouement.  But  it  is  of  so  great  interest,  and 
is  so  full,  in  its  sweet,  fierce  manifestation,  of  the 
one  thing  insoluble  by  time.  Love,  that  I  will  never- 
theless rewrite  it  from  old  Sir  Edwin's  memoir.  Not 
so  much  as  an  historical  narrative,  although  I  fear  a 
little  history  will  creep  in,  despite  me,  but  simply  as 
a  picture  of  that  olden  long  ago,  which,  try  as  we 
will  to  put  aside  the  hazy,  many-folded  curtain  of 
time,  still  retains  its  shadowy  lack  of  sharp  detail, 
toning  down  and  mellowing  the  hard  aspect  of  real 
life — harder  and  more  unromantic  even  than  our 


The  CasKfiden^  S 

own — into   the  blending  softness  of  an  exquisite 
mirage. 

I  might  give  you  the  exact  words  in  which  Sir 
Edwin  wrote,  and  shall  now  and  then  quote  from 
contemporaneous  chronicles  in  the  language  of  his 
time,  but  should  I  so  write  at  all,  I  fear  the  pleasure 
of  perusal  would  but  poorly  pay  for  the  trouble,  as 
the  English  of  the  Bluff  King  is  almost  a  foreign 
tongue  to  us.  I  shall,  therefore,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, give  Sir  Edwin's  memoir  in  words,  spelling 
and  idiom  which  his  rollicking  little  old  shade  will 
probably  repudiate  as  none  of  his  whatsoever.  So, 
if  you  happen  to  find  sixteenth  century  thought  hob- 
nobbing in  the  same  sentence  with  nineteenth  cen- 
tury English,  be  not  disturbed;  I  did  it.  If  the 
little  old  fellow  grows  grandiloquent  or  garrulous 
at  times — he  did  that.  If  you  find  him  growing 
super-sentimental,  remember  that  sentimentalism 
was  the  life-breath  of  chivalry,  just  then  approach- 
ing its  absurdest  climax  in  the  bombastic  conscien- 
tiousness of  Bayard  and  the  whole  mental  atmos- 
phere laden  with  its  pompous  nonsense. 


CHATTB'R  I 
15 h9  IHre/ 

IT  sometimes  happens,  Sir  Edwin  says,  that  wTien  a 
woman  will  she  won't,  and  when  she  won't  she 
will ;  but  usually  in  the  end  the  adage  holds  good. 
That  sentence  may  not  be  luminous  with  meaning, 
but  I  will  give  you  an  illustration. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  spring  of  1509,  at  any  rate 
soon  after  the  death  of  the  "Modern  Solomon,"  as 
Queen  Catherine  called  her  old  father-in-law,  the 
late  King  Henry  VII,  that  his  august  majesty  Henry 
VIII,  "The  Vndubitate  Flower  and  very  Heire  of 
both  the  sayd  Linages,"  came  to  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land, and  tendered  me  the  honorable  position  of 
Mas.ter  of  the  Dance  at  his  sumptuous  court. 

As  to  "worldly  goods,"  as  some  of  the  new  re- 
ligionists call  wealth,  I  was  very  comfortably  off; 
having  inherited  from  my  father,  one  of  the  coun- 
selors of  Henry  VII,  a  very  competent  fortune  in- 
deed. How  my  worthy  father  contrived  to  save 
from  the  greedy  hand  of  that  rich  old  miser  so  great 
a  fortune,  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell.  He  was  the  only 
man  of  my  knowledge  who  did  it ;  for  the  old  king 
had  a  reach  as  long  as  the  kingdom,  and,  upon  one 
pretext  or  another,  appropriated  to  himself  every- 
thing on  which  he  could  lay  his  hands.    My  father, 

however,  was  himself  pretty  shrewd  in  money  mat- 

(6)    ^ 


The  'Duel  f 

ters,  having  inherited  along  with  his  fortune  a  rare 
knack  at  keeping  it.  His  father  was  a  goldsmith  in 
the  time  of  King  Edward,  and  enjoyed  the  marked 
favor  of  that  puissant  prince. 

Being  thus  in  a  position  of  affluence,  I  cared  noth- 
ing for  the  fact  that  httle  or  no  emolument  went  with 
the  office ;  it  was  the  honor  which  delighted  me.  Be- 
sides, I  was  thereby  an  inmate  of  the  king's  palace, 
and  brought  into  intimate  relations  with  the  court, 
and  above  all,  with  the  finest  ladies  of  the  land 
• — the  best  company  a  man  can  keep,  since  it  enno- 
bles his  mind  with  better  thoughts,  purifies  his 
heart  with  cleaner  motives,  and  makes  him  gentle 
without  detracting  from  his  strength.  It  was  an 
office  any  lord  of  the  kingdom  might  have  been 
proud  to  hold. 

Now,  some  four  or  five  years  after  my  induction 
into  this  honorable  office,  there  came  to  court  news 
of  a  terrible  duel  fought  down  in  Suffolk,  out  of 
which  only  one  of  the  four  combatants  had  come 
alive — two,  rather,  but  one  of  them  in  a  condition 
worse  than  death.  The  first  survivor  was  a  son  of 
Sir  William  Brandon,  and  the  second  was  a  man 
called  Sir  Adam  Judson.  The  story  went  that 
young  Brandon  and  his  elder  brother,  both  just 
home  from  the  continental  wars,  had  met  Judson  at 
an  Ipswich  inn,  where  there  had  been  considerable 
gambling  among  them.  Judson  had  won  from  the 
brothers  a  large  sum  of  money  which  they  had 
brought  home ;    for,  notwithstanding  their  youth, 


8       XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  Flower 

the  elder  being  but  twenty-six  and  the  younger 
about  twenty-four  years  of  age,  they  had  gained 
great  honor  and  considerable  profit  in  wars,  espe- 
cially the  younger,  whose  name  was  Charles. 

It  is  a  little  hard  to  fight  for  money  and  then  to 
lose  it  by  a  single  spot  upon  the  die,  but  such  is  the 
fate  of  him  who  plays,  and  a  philosopher  will  swal- 
low his  ill  luck  and  take  to  fighting  for  more.  The 
Brandons  could  have  done  this  easily  enough,  espe- 
cially Charles,  who  was  an  offhand  philosopher, 
rather  fond  of  a  good-humored  fight,  had  it  not  been 
that  in  the  course  of  play  one  evening  the  secret  of 
Judson's  winning  had  been  disclosed  by  a  discovery 
that  he  cheated.  The  Brandons  waited  until  they 
were  sure,  and  then  trouble  began,  which  resulted 
in  a  duel  on  the  second  morning  following. 

This  Judson  was  a  Scotch  gentleman  of  whom 
"Very  little  was  known,  except  that  he  was  counted 
the  most  deadly  and  most  cruel  duelist  of  the  time. 
He  was  called  the  "Walking  Death,"  and  it  is  said 
took  pride  in  the  appellation.  He  boasted  that  he  had 
fought  eighty-seven  duels,  in  which  he  had  killed 
seventy-five  men,  and  it  was  considered  certain  death 
to  meet  him.  I  got  the  story  of  the  duel  afterwards 
from  Brandon  as  I  give  it  here. 

John  was  the  elder  brother,  and  when  the  chal- 
lenge came  was  entitled  to  fight  first, — a  birthright 
out  of  which  Charles  tried  in  vain  to  talk  him.  The 
brothers  told  their  father.  Sir  William  Brandon,  and 
at  the  appointed  time  father  and  sons  repaired  to  the 


The  Duel  9 

place  of  meeting,  where  they  found  Judson  and  his 
two  seconds  ready  for  the  fight. 

Sir  WilHam  was  still  a  vigorous  man,  with  few 
equals  in  sword  play,  and  the  sons,  especially  the 
younger,  were  better  men  and  more  skilful  than 
their  father  had  ever  been,  yet  they  felt  that  this  duel 
meant  certain  death,  so  great  was  Judson's  fame  for 
skill  and  cruelty.  Notwithstanding  they  were  so 
handicapped  with  this  feeling  of  impending  evil, 
they  met  their  duty  without  a  tremor ;  for  the  motto 
of  their  house  was,  "Malo  Mori  Qiiam  Fedrai" 

It  was  a  misty  morning  in  March.  Brandon  has 
told  me  since,  that  when  his  elder  brother  took  his 
stand,  it  was  at  once  manifest  that  he  was  Judson's 
superior,  both  in  strength  and  skill,  but  after  a  few 
strokes  the  brother's  blade  bent  double  and  broke 
off  short  at  the  hilt  when  it  should  have  gone  home. 
Thereupon,  Judson,  with  a  malignant  smile  of  tri- 
umph, deliberately  selected  his  opponent's  heart  and 
pierced  it  with  his  sword,  giving  the  blade  a  twist 
as  he  drew  it  out  in  order  to  cut  and  mutilate  the 
more. 

In  an  instant  Sir  William's  doublet  was  off,  and  he 
was  in  his  dead  son's  tracks,  ready  to  avenge  him  or 
to  die.  Again  the  thrust  which  should  have  killed 
broke  the  sword,  and  the  father  died  as  the  son  had 
died. 

After  this,  came  young  Charles,  exj)ecting,  but, 
so  great  was  his  strong  heart,  not  one  whit  fearing, 
to  lie  beside  his  dead  father  and  brother.    He  kncA^ 


10     X^hen  K.ni^hthood  Was  in  Ftotver 

he  was  the  superior  of  both  in  strength  and  skill, 
and  his  knowledge  of  men  and  the  noble  art  told 
him  they  had  each  been  the  superior  of  Judson ;  but 
the  fellow's  hand  seemed  to  be  the  hand  of  death. 
An  opening  came  through  Judson's  unskilful  play, 
which  gave  young  Brandon  an  opportunity  for  a 
thrust  to  kill,  but  his  blade,  like  his  father's  and 
brother's,  bent  double  without  penetrating.  Unlike 
the  others,  however,  it  did  not  break,  and  the  thrust 
revealed  the  fact  that  Judson's  skill  as  a  duelist  lay 
in  a  shirt  of  mail  which  it  was  useless  to  try  to 
pierce.  Aware  of  this,  Brandon  knew  that  victory 
was  his,  and  that  soon  he  would  have  avenged  the 
murders  that  had  gone  before.  He  saw  that  his  ad- 
versary was  strong  neither  in  wind  nor  arm,  and  had 
not  the  skill  to  penetrate  his  guard  in  a  week's  try- 
ing, so  he  determined  to  fight  on  the  defensive  until 
Judson's  strength  should  wane,  and  then  kill  him 
when  and  how  he  chose. 

After  a  time  Judson  began  to  breathe  hard  and 
his  thrusts  to  lack  force. 

"Boy,  I  would  spare  you,"  he  said ;  "I  have  killed 
enough  of  your  tribe ;  put  up  your  sword  and  call  it 
quits." 

Young  Brandon  replied :  "Stand  your  ground,  you 
coward ;  you  will  be  a  dead  man  as  soon  as  you  grow 
a  little  weaker ;  if  you  try  to  run  I  will  thrust  you 
through  the  neck  as  I  would  a  cur.  Listen  how  you 
snort.  I  shall  soon  have  you ;  you  are  almost  gone. 
You  would  spare  me,  would  you  ?  I  could  preach  a 


The  'Duel  ii 

sermon  or  dance  a  hornpipe  while  I  am  kiUing  you. 
I  will  not  break  my  sword  against  your  coat  of  mail, 
but  will  wait  until  you  fall  from  weakness  and 
then.  . .  .Fight,  you  bloodhound  !" 

Judson  was  pale  from  exhaustion,  and  his  breath 
was  coming  in  gasps  as  he  tried  to  keep  the  merciless 
sword  from  his  throat.  At  last,  by  a  dexterous  twist 
of  his  blade,  Brandon  sent  Judson's  sword  flying 
thirty  feet  away.  The  fellow  started  to  run,  but 
turned  and  fell  upon  his  knees  to  beg  for  life.  Bran- 
don's reply  w^as  a  flashing  circle  of  steel,  and  his 
sword  point  cut  lengthwise  through  Judson's  eyes 
and  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  leaving  him  sightless  and 
hideous  for  life.  A  revenge  compared  to  which 
death  would  hare  been  merciful. 

The  duel  created  a  sensation  throughout  th« 
kingdom,  for  although  little  was  known  as  to  who 
Judson  w^as,  his  fame  as  a  duelist  was  as  broad  as  the 
land.  He  had  been  at  court  upon  several  occasions, 
and,  at  one  time,  upon  the  king's  birthday,  had 
fought  in  the  royal  lists.  So  the  matter  came  in  for 
its  share  of  consideration  by  king  and  courtiers,  and 
young  Brandon  became  a  person  of  interest.  He  be- 
came still  more  so  when  some  gentlemen  who  had 
served  with  him  in  the  continental  wars  told  the 
court  of  his  daring  and  bravery,  and  related  stories 
of  deeds  at  arms  worthy  of  the  best  knight  in 
Christendom. 

He  had  an  uncle  at  the  court.  Sir  Thomas  Bran- 
don, the  king's  Master  of  Horse,  who  thought  it  a 


12     XOhen  Kjni^hthood  Wa^  in  Flo^aaer 

good  opportunity  to  put  his  nephew  forward  and  let 
him  take  his  chance  at  winning  royal  favor.  The 
uncle  broached  the  subject  to  the  king,  with  favor- 
able issue,  and  Charles  Brandon,  led  by  the  hand  of 
fate,  came  to  London  Court,  where  that  same  fate 
had  in  keeping  for  him  events  such  as  seldom  fall  to 
the  lot  of  man. 


CHATTEL  II 

Hotu  "Brandon  Came  to  Court 

WHEN  we  learned  that  Brandon  was  coming 
to  court,  every  one  believed  he  would  soon 
gain  the  king's  favor.  How  much  that 
would  amount  to  none  could  tell,  as  the  king's  favor- 
ites were  of  many  sorts  and  taken  from  all  condi- 
tions of  men.  There  was  Master  Wolsey,  a  butcher's 
son,  whom  he  had  first  made  almoner,  then  chief 
counselor  and  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  soon  to  be  Bishop 
of  York,  and  Cardinal  of  the  Holy  Roman  Church. 

From  the  other  extreme  of  life  came  young 
Thomas,  Lord  Howard,  heir  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
and  my  Lord  of  Buckingham,  premier  peer  of  the 
realm.  Then  sometimes  would  the  king  take  a  yeo- 
man of  the  guard  and  make  him  his  companion  in 
jousts  and  tournaments,  solely  because  of  his  brawn 
and  bone.  There  were  others  whom  he  kept  close 
by  him  in  the  palace  because  of  their  wit  and  the 
entertainment  they  furnished ;  of  which  class  was 
I,  and,  I  flatter  myself,  no  mean  member. 

To  begin  with,  being  in  no  way  dependent  on  the 
king  for  money,  I  never  drew  a  farthing  from  the 
royal  treasury.  This,  you  may  be  sure,  did  me  no 
harm,  for  although  the  king  sometimes  delighted  to 
give,  he  always  hated  to  pay.  There  were  other 
e^ood  reasons,  too,  why  I  should  be  a  favorite  with 

(13) 


14     t£}hen  Kxiighihood  Wa^  in  Ftolufer 

the  king.  Without  meaning  to  be  vain,  I  think  I 
may  presume  to  say,  with  perfect  truth,  that  my  con- 
versation and  manners  were  far  more  pleasing  and 
pohshed  than  were  usual  at  that  day  in  England, 
for  I  made  it  a  point  to  spend  several  weeks  each 
year  in  the  noble  French  capital,  the  home  and  cen- 
ter of  good-breeding  and  politeness. 

My  appointment  as  Master  vf  the  Dance,  I  am 
sure,  was  owing  entirely  to  my  manner.  My  brother, 
the  baron,  who  stood  high  with  the  king,  was  not 
friendly  toward  me  because  my  father  had  seen  fit 
to  bequeath  me  so  good  a  competency  in  place  of 
giving  it  all  to  the  first-born  and  leaving  me  de- 
pendent upon  the  tender  mercies  of  an  elder  brother. 
So  I  had  no  help  from  him  nor  from  any  one  else. 
I  was  quite  small  of  stature  and,  therefore,  unable  to 
compete,  with  lance  and  mace,  with  bulkier  men ; 
but  I  would  bet  with  any  man,  of  any  size,  on  any 
game,  at  any  place  and  time,  in  any  amount ;  and, 
if  I  do  say  it,  who  perhaps  should  not,  I  basked  in 
the  light  of  many  a  fair  smile  which  larger  men  had 
sighed  for  in  vain. 

I  did  not  know  when  Brandon  first  came  to  Lon- 
don. We  had  all  remained  at  Greenwich  while  the 
king  went  up  to  Westminster  to  waste  his  time  with 
matters  of  state  and  quarrel  with  the  Parliament, 
then  sitting,  over  the  amount  of  certain  subsidies. 

Mary,  the  king's  sister,  then  some  eighteen  or 
nineteen  years  of  age,  a  perfect  bud,  just  blossom- 
ing into  a  perfect  flower,  had  gone  over  to  Windsor 


Hotg}  "Brandon  Came  1o  Court  15 

on  a  visit  to  her  elder  sister,  Margaret  of  Scotland, 
and  the  palace  was  dull  enough.  Brandon,  it  seems, 
had  been  presented  to  Henr}^  during  this  time,  at 
Westminster,  and  had,  to  some  extent  at  least,  be- 
come a  favorite  before  I  met  him.  The  first  time 
I  saw  him  was  at  a  joust  given  by  the  king  at  West- 
minster, in  celebration  of  the  fact  that  he  had  coaxed 
a  good  round  subsidy  out  of  Parliament. 

The  queen  and  her  ladies  had  been  invited  over, 
and  it  was  known  that  Mary  would  be  down  fiom 
\\'indsor  and  come  home  with  the  king  and  the  court 
to  Greenwich  when  we  should  return.  So  we  all 
went  over  to  Westminster  the  night  before  the 
jousts,  and  were  up  bright  and  early  next  morning 
to  see  all  that  was  to  be  seen. 

[Here  the  editor  sees  fit  to  substitute  a  descrip- 
tion of  this  tournament  taken  from  the  quaint  old 
chronicler,  Hall.] 

The  morow  beyng  after  dynner,  at  tyme  conuenenient, 
the  Quene  with  her  Ladyes  repaired  to  see  the  lustes,  the 
trompettes  blewe  vp,  and  in  came  many  a  noble  man  and 
Gentlema,  rychely  appeareilcd,  takynge  vp  thir  horses, 
after  whome  folowcd  certayne  lordes  apparelled,  they  and 
thir  horses,  in  cloth  of  Golde  and  russet  and  tynsell; 
Knyghtes  in  cloth  of  Golde,  and  russet  Veluet.  And  a 
grcaie  nomber  of  Gentlemen  on  fote,  in  russet  satyn  and 
yealow,  and  yomen  in  russet  Damaske  and  yealow,  all  the 
nether  parte  of  cuery  mans  hosen  Skarlct,  and  yealow 
cappcs. 

Then  came  the  kynge  vnder  a  Pauilion  of  golde,  and 
purpul  Veluet  embroudered,  the  compass  of  the  Pauilion 


i6     tOhen  Knighthood  Wa4  in  Flob^er 

about,  and  valenced  with  a  flat,  gold  beaten  in  wyre,  with 
an  Imperiall  croune  in  the  top,  of  fyne  Golde,  his  bases 
and  trapper  of  cloth  of  Golde,  fretted  with  Damask  Golde, 
the  trapper  pedant  to  the  tail.  A  crane  and  chafron  of 
stele,  in  the  front  of  the  chafro  was  a  goodly  plume  set 
full  of  musers  or  trimb^ing  spangles  of  golde.  After 
folowed  his  three  aydes,  euery  of  them  vnder  a  Pauilion  of 
Crymosyn  Damaske  &  purple.  The  nomber  of  Gentlemen 
and  yomen  a  fote,  apparelled  in  russet  and  yealow  was 
clxviii.  Then  next  these  Pauilions  came  xii  chyldren  of 
honor,  sitting  euery  one  of  them  on  a  greate  courser, 
rychely  trapped,  and  embroudered  in  seuerall  deuises  and 
facions,  where  lacked  neither  brouderie  nor  goldsmythes 
work,  so  that  euery  chyld  and  horse  in  deuice  and  faseion 
was  contrary  to  the  other,  which  was  goodly  to  beholde. 

Then  on  the  counter  parte,  entered  a  Straunger,  fyrst  on 
horsebacke  in  a  long  robe  of  Russet  satyne,  like  a  recluse 
or  a  religious,  and  his  horse  trapped  in  the  same  sewte, 
without  dromme  or  noyse  of  mynstrelsye,  puttinge  a  byll 
of  peticion  to  the  Queue,  the  effect  whereof  was,  that  if 
it  would  please  her  to  license  hym  to  runne  in  her  pres- 
ence, he  would  do  it  gladly,  and  if  not,  then  he  would 
departe  as  he  came.  After  his  request  was  graunted,  then 
he  put  off  hys  sayd  habyte  and  was  armed  at  all  peces 
with  ryche  bases  &  horse,  also  rychely  trapped,  and  so  did 
runne  his  horse  to  the  tylte  end,  where  dieurs  men  on  fote 
apparelled  in  Russet  satyn  awaited  on  him.  Thereupon  the 
Heraulds  cryed  an  Oyez!  and  the  grownd  shoke  with  the 
trompe  of  rushynge  stedes.  Wonder  it  were  to  write  of 
the  dedes  of  Armes  which  that  day  toke  place,  where  a 
man  might  haue  seen  many  a  horse  raysed  on  highe  with 
galop,  turne  and  stoppe,  maruaylous  to  behold.  C.xiv 
staves  were  broke  and  the  kynge  being  lusty,  he  and  the 
straunger  toke  the  prices. 

When  the  queen  had  given  the  stranger  per- 
mission to  run,  and  as  he  moved  away,  there  was  a 
great  clapping  of  hands  and  waving  of  trophies 


Hotu  ^r^ndon  Came  to  Court  17 

among  the  ladies,  for  he  was  of  such  noble  mien  and 
comely  face  as  to  attract  the  gaze  of  every  one  away 
from  even  the  glittering  person  of  his  majesty  the 
king. 

His  hair,  worn  in  its  natural  length,  fell  in  brown 
curls  back  from  his  forehead  almost  to  the  shoulder, 
a  style  just  then  new,  even  in  France.  His  eyes  were 
a  deep  blue,  and  his  complexion,  though  browned  by 
exposure,  held  a  tinge  of  beauty  which  the  sun  could 
not  mar  and  a  girl  might  envy.  He  wore  neither 
mustachio  nor  beard,  as  men  now  disfigure  theii' 
faces — since  Francis  I  took  a  scar  on  his  chin — and 
his  clear  cut  profile,  dilating  nostrils  and  mobile, 
though  firm-set  mouth,  gave  pleasing  assurance  o^^ 
tenderness,  gentleness,  daring  and  strength. 

I  was  standing  near  the  queen,  who  called  to  me: 
"Who  is  the  handsome  stranger  that  so  gracefully 
jsked  our  license  to  run  ?" 

"I  can  not  inform  your  majesty.  I  never  saw  him 
until  now.  He  is  the  goodliest  knight  I  have  ever 
beheld." 

"That  he  is,"  replied  the  queen;  "and  we  should 
like  very  much  to  know  him.  Should  we  not, 
ladies  ?"  There  was  a  chorus  of  assent  from  a  dozen 
voices,  and  I  promised,  after  the  running,  to  learn  all 
about  him  and  report. 

It  was  at  this  point  the  heralds  cried  their  "Oyes,"* 
and  our  conversation  was  at  an  end  for  the  time. 

As  to  height,  the  stranger  was  full  six  feet,  with 
ample  evidence  of  muscle,  though  no  great  bulk. 


i8     tOhen  Kjnighihood  Wa^  in  Flower 

He  was  grace  itself,  and  the  king  afterwards  said 
he  had  never  seen  such  strength  of  arm  and  skill  in 
the  use  of  the  lance — a  sure  harbinger  of  favor,  if 
not  of  fortune,  for  the  possessor. 

After  the  jousting  the  Princess  Mary  asked  me  if 
I  could  yet  give  her  an  account  of  the  stranger ;  and 
as  I  could  not,  she  went  to  the  king. 

I  heard  her  inquire : 

"Who  was  your  companion,  brother?" 

"That  is  a  secret,  sister.  You  will  find  out  soon 
enough,  and  will  be  falling  in  love  with  him,  no 
doubt.  I  have  always  looked  upon  you  as  full  of 
trouble  for  me  in  that  respect ;  you  will  not  so  much 
as  glance  at  anyone  I  choose  for  you,  but  I  suppose 
would  be  ready  enough  with  your  smiles  for  some 
one  I  should  not  want." 

"Is  the  stranger  one  whom  you  would  not  want  ?" 
asked  Mary,  with  a  dimpling  smile  and  a  flash  of  her 
brown  eyes. 

"He  most  certainly  is,"  returned  the  king. 

"Then  I  will  fall  in  love  with  him  at  once.  In 
fact,  I  don't  know  but  I  have  already." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  of  that ;  if  I  wanted  him,  he 
might  be  Apollo  himself  and  you  would  have  none 
of  him."  King  Henry  had  been  compelled  to  refuse 
several  very  advantageous  alliances  because  this 
fair,  coaxing,  self-willed  sister  would  not  consent 
to  be  a  part  of  the  moving  consideration. 

"But  can  you  not  tell  me  who  he  is,  and  what  his 
degree  ?"  went  on  Mary  in  a  bantering  tone. 


Hotgf  'Brandon  Came  to  Court  19 

"He  has  no  degree ;  he  is  a  plain,  untitled  soldier, 
not  even  a  knight;  that  is,  not  an  English  knight. 
I  think  he  has  a  German  or  Spanish  order  of  some 
sort." 

"Xot  a  duke ;  not  an  earl ;  not  even  a  baron  or 
knight?   Now  he  has  become  interesting." 

"Yes,  I  supf)ose  so;  but  don't  bother  me." 

"Will  he  be  at  the  dance  and  banquet  to- 
night ^" 

"No!  No!  Now  I  must  go;  don't  bother  me, 
I  say."    And  the  king  moved  away. 

That  night  we  had  a  grand  banquet  and  dance  at 
Westminster,  and  the  next  day  we  all,  excepting 
Lady  Mary,  went  back  to  Greenwich  by  boat,  paying 
a  farthing  a  head  for  our  fare.  This  was  just  after 
the  law  fixing  the  boat  fare,  and  the  watermen  were 
a  quarreling  lot,  you  may  be  sure.  One  farthing 
from  Westminster  to  Greenwich !  Eight  miles.  No 
wonder  they  were  angry. 

The  next  day  I  went  back  to  London  on  an  errand, 
and  over  to  Wolsey's  house  to  borrow  a  book.  While 
there  Master  Cavendish,  Wolsey's  secretary,  pre- 
sented me  to  the  handsome  stranger,  and  he  proved 
to  be  no  other  than  Charles  Brandon,  who  had 
fought  the  terrible  duel  down  in  Suffolk.  I  could 
hardly  believe  that  so  mild-mannered  and  boyish  a 
person  could  have  taken  the  leading  part  in  such  a 
tragedy.  But  with  all  his  gentleness  there  was  an 
underlying  dash  of  cool  daring  which  intimated 
plainly  enough  that  he  was  not  all  mildness. 


20     XOhen  Kjntghihood  Wajs  in  Flotver 

We  became  friends  at  once,  drawn  together  by 
that  subtle  human  quality  which  makes  one  nature 
fit  into  another,  resulting  in  friendship  between  men, 
and  love  between  men  and  women.  We  soon  found 
that  we  had  many  tastes  in  common,  chief  among 
which  was  the  strongest  of  all  congenial  bonds,  the 
love  of  books.  In  fact  we  had  come  to  know  each 
other  through  our  common  love  of  reading,  for  he 
also  had  gone  to  Master  Cavendish,  who  had  a  fine 
library,  to  borrow  some  volumes  to  take  with  him 
down  to  Greenwich. 

Brandon  informed  me  he  was  to  go  to  Greenwich 
that  day,  so  we  determined  to  see  a  little  of  London, 
which  was  new  to  him,  and  then  take  boat  in  time  to 
be  at  the  palace  before  dark. 

That  evening,  upon  arriving  at  Greenwich,  we 
hunted  up  Brandon's  uncle,  the  Master  of  Horse, 
Jvho  invited  his  nephew  to  stay  with  him  for  the 
night.  He  refused,  however,  and  accepted  an  in- 
vitation to  take  a  bed  in  my  room. 

The  next  day  Brandon  was  installed  as  one  of  the 
captains  of  the  king's  guard,  under  his  uncle,  but 
with  no  particular  duties,  except  such  as  should  be 
assigned  him  from  time  to  time.  He  was  offered  a 
good  room  on  one  of  the  lower  floors,  but  asked, 
instead,  to  be  lodged  in  the  attic  next  to  me.  So 
we  arranged  that  each  had  a  room  opening  into  a 
third  that  served  us  alike  for  drawing-room  and 
armory. 

Here  we  sat  and  talked,  and  now  and  then  one 


a 
c 


c 

CIS 

s 


-    o 

00   - 


OJ 


y.    as 


Hotv  "Brandon  Came  to  Court  21 

would  read  aloud  some  favorite  passage,  while  the 
other  kept  his  own  place  with  finger  between  the 
leaves.  Here  we  discussed  everything  from  court 
scandal  to  religion,  and  settled  to  our  own  satisfac- 
tion, at  least,  many  a  great  problem  with  which  the 
foolish  world  is  still  wrestling. 

We  told  each  other  all  our  secrets,  too,  for  all  the 
world  like  a  pair  of  girls.  Although  Brandon  had 
seen  so  much  of  life,  having  fought  on  the  continent 
ever  since  he  was  a  bov,  and  for  all  he  was  so  much 
a  man  of  the  world,  yet  had  he  as  fresh  and  boyish  a 
heart  as  if  he  had  just  come  from  the  clover  fields 
and  daisies.  He  seemed  almost  diffident,  but  I  soon 
learned  that  his  manner  was  but  the  cool  gentleness 
of  strength. 

Of  what  use,  let  me  ask,  is  a  friend  unless  you  can 
unload  your  heart  upon  him  ?  It  matters  not  whether 
the  load  be  joy  or  sorrow ;  if  the  former,  the  need 
is  all  the  greater,  for  joy  has  an  expansive  power, 
as  some  persons  say  steam  has,  and  must  escape 
from  the  heart  upon  some  one  else. 

So  Brandon  told  me  of  his  hopes  and  aspirations, 
chief  among  which  was  his  desire  to  earn,  and  save, 
enough  money  to  pay  the  debt  against  his  father's 
estate,  which  he  had  turned  over  to  his  younger 
brother  and  sisters.  He,  as  the  eldest,  could  have 
taken  it  all,  for  his  father  had  died  without  a  will, 
but  he  said  there  was  not  enough  to  divide,  so  he  had 
given  it  to  them  and  hoped  to  leave  it  clear  of  debt ; 
then  f-»r  New  Spain,  glory  and  fortune,  conquest 


22     XOhen  Kjai^hthood  Wcm  in  Flower 

and  yellow  gold.  He  had  read  of  the  voyages  of  the 
great  Columbus,  the  Cabots,  and  a  host  of  others, 
and  the  future  was  as  rosy  as  a  Cornish  girl's  cheek. 
Fortune  held  up  her  lips  to  him,  but — there's  often  a 
sting  in  a  kiss. 


CHATTE'R  III 

Uhe  T^rince-fs  Mary 

NOW,  at  that  time,  Mary,  the  king's  sister,  was 
just  ripening  into  her  greatest  womanly  per- 
fection. Her  skin  was  Hke  velvet;  a  rich, 
clear,  rosy  snow,  with  the  hot  young  blood  glowing 
tlirough  it  like  the  faint  red  tinge  we  sometimes  see 
on  the  inner  side  of  a  white  rose  leaf.  Her  hair  was 
a  very  light  brown,  almost  golden,  and  fluffy,  soft, 
and  fine  as  a  skein  of  Arras  ©ilk.  She  was  of  me- 
dium height,  with  a  figure  that  Venus  might  have 
envied.  Her  feet  and  hands  were  small,  and  ap- 
parently made  for  the  sole  purpose  of  driving  man- 
kind distracted.  In  fact,  that  seemed  to  be  the 
paramount  object  in  her  creation,  for  she  had  the 
world  of  men  at  her  feet.  Her  greatest  beauty  was 
her  glowing  dark  brown  eyes,  which  shone  with  an 
ever-changing  luster  from  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
longest,  blackest  upcurving  lashes  erer  seen. 

Her  voice  was  soft  and  full,  and,  except  when 
angry,  which,  alas,  was  not  infrequent,  had  a  low 
and  coaxing  little  note  that  made  it  irresistible ;  she 
was  a  most  adroit  coaxer,  and  knew  her  power  full 
well,  although  she  did  not  always  plead,  having  the 
Tudor  temper  and  preferring  to  command — when 
she  could.  As  before  hinted,  she  had  coaxed  her 
royal  brother  out  of  several  proposed  marriages  for 

(23) 


24     XOhen  Kjni^hihood  Wa^s  in  Flobtfer 

her,  which  would  have  been  greatly  to  his  advan- 
tage ;  and  if  you  had  only  known  Henry  Tudor,  with 
his  vain,  boisterous,  stubborn  violence,  you  could 
form  some  idea  of  Mary's  powers  by  that  achieve- 
ment alone. 

Will  Sommers,  the  fool,  one  day  spread  through 
court  an  announcement  that  there  would  be  a  public 
exhibition  in  the  main  hall  of  the  palace  that  even- 
ing, when  the  Princess  Mary  would  perform  the 
somewhat  alarming,  but,  in  fact,  harmless,  operation 
of  wheedling  the  king  out  of  his  ears.  This  was  just 
after  she  had  coaxed  him  to  annul  a  marriage  con- 
tract which  her  father  had  made  for  her  with 
Charles  of  Germany,  then  heir  to  the  greatest  in- 
heritance that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  one  man — Spain, 
the  Netherlands,  Austria,  and  heaven  only  knows 
what  else. 

She  had  been  made  love  to  by  so  many  men,  who 
had  lost  their  senses  in  the  dazzling  rays  of  her 
thousand  perfections — of  whom,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  th-at  I,  for  a  time,  had  been  insane  enough  to  be 
one — that  love  had  grown  to  be  a  sort  of  joke  with 
her,  and  man,  a  poor,  contemptible  creature,  made 
to  grovel  at  her  feet.  Not  that  she  liked  or  encour- 
aged it ;  for,  never  having  been  moved  herself,  slie 
held  love  and  its  sufferings  in  utter  scorn.  Man's 
love  was  so  cheap  and  plentiful  that  it  had  no  value 
in  her  eyes,  and  it  looked  as  if  she  would  lose  the 
best  thing  in  life  by  having  too  much  of  it. 

Such  was  the  royal  maid  to  whose  tender  mercies, 


The  Trtnc€>r>r  Mary  25 

I  now  tell  you  frankly,  my  friend  Brandon  was  soon 
to  be  turned  over.  He,  however,  was  a  blade  of  very 
different  temper  from  any  she  had  known  ;  and  when 
I  first  saw  signs  of  a  growing  intimacy  between 
them  I  felt,  from  what  little  I  had  seen  of  Brandon, 
that  the  tables  were  very  likely  to  be  turned  upon 
her  ladyship.  Then  thought  I,  "God  help  her,"  for 
in  a  nature  like  hers,  charged  with  latent  force, 
strong  and  hot  and  fiery  as  the  sun's  stored  rays,  it 
needed  but  a  flash  to  make  it  patent,  when  damage 
was  sure  to  follow  for  somebody — probably  Bran- 
don. 

Mary  did  not  come  home  with  us  from  West- 
minster the  morning  after  the  joustings,  as  we  had 
expected,  but  followed  some  four  or  five  days  later, 
and  Brandon  had  fairly  settled  himself  at  court  be- 
fore her  arrival.  As  neither  his  duties  nor  mine 
were  onerous,  we  had  a  great  deal  of  time  on  our 
hands,  which  we  employed  walking  and  riding,  or 
sitting  in  our  common  room  reading  and  talking. 
Of  course,  as  with  most  young  men,  that  very 
attractive  branch  of  natural  history,  woman,  was  a 
favorite  topic,  and  we  accordingly  discussed  h  i, 
great  deal ;  that  is,  to  tell  the  exact  truth,  /  did.  Al- 
though Brandon  had  seen  many  an  adventure  during 
his  life  on  the  continent,  which  would  not  do  to  write 
down  here,  he  was  as  little  of  a  boaster  as  any  man 
I  ever  met,  and,  while  I  am  in  the  truth-telling  busi- 
ness, I  was  as  great  a  braggart  of  my  inches  as  ever 
drew  the  long-bow — in  that  line,  I  mean.    Gods!  I 


26     XOhen  Kjii^hihood  Wa^  in  Ftoboer 

flush  up  hot,  even  now,  when  I  think  of  it.  So  I 
talked  a  great  deal  and  found  myself  infinitely 
pleased  with  Brandon's  conversational  powers, 
which  were  rare;  being  no  less  than  the  capacity 
for  saying  nothing,  and  listening  politely  to  an  in- 
finite deal  of  the  same  thing,  in  another  form, 
from  me. 

I  remember  that  I  told  him  I  had  known  the  Prin- 
cess Mary  from  a  time  when  she  was  twelve  years 
old,  and  how  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself  about  her. 
I  fear  I  tried  to  convey  the  impression  that  it  was 
her  exalted  rank  only  which  made  her  look  unfavor- 
ably upon  my  passion,  and  suppressed  the  fact  that 
she  had  laughed  at  me  good  humoredly,  and  put  me 
off  as  she  would  have  thrust  a  poodle  from  her  lap. 
Tlie  truth  is,  she  had  always  been  kind  and  cour- 
teous to  me,  and  had  admitted  me  to  a  degree  of  in- 
timacy much  greater  than  I  deserved.  This,  partly 
at  least,  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  I  helped  her  along 
the  thorny  path  to  knowledge;  a  road  she  traveled 
at  an  eager  gallop,  for  she  dearly  loved  to  learn — 
from  curiosity  perhaps. 

I  am  sure  she  held  me  in  her  light,  gentle  heart  as 
a  dear  friend,  but  while  her  heart  was  filled  with  this 
mild  warmth  for  me,  mine  began  to  burn  with  the 
flame  that  discolors  everything,  and  I  saw  her 
friendliness  in  a  very  distorting  light.  She  was 
much  kinder  to  me  than  to  most  men,  but  I  did  not 
see  that  it  was  by  reason  of  my  absolute  harmless- 
ness;  and,  I  suppose,  because  I  was  a  vain  fool,  I 


The  Trince^ss  Mary  V 

gradually  began  to  gather  hope — which  goes  with 
every  vain  man's  love — and  what  is  more,  actually 
climbed  to  the  very  apex  of  idiocy  and  declared  my- 
self. I  well  knew  the  infinite  distance  between  us; 
but  like  every  other  man  who  came  within  tlie  circle 
of  this  charming  lodestone  I  lost  my  head,  and,  in 
short,  made  a  greater  fool  of  myself  than  I  naturally 
was — which  is  saying  a  good  deal  for  that  time  in 
my  life,  God  knows  ! 

I  knew  vaguely  but  did  not  fairly  realize  how 
utterly  beyond  my  reach  in  everj'  way  she  was  until 
I  opened  the  flood-gates  of  my  passion — as  I 
thought  it — and  saw  her  smile,  and  try  to  check  the 
coming  laugh.  Then  came  a  look  of  offended  dig- 
nity, followed  by  a  quick  softening  glance. 

"Leave  me  one  friend,  I  pray  you,  Edwin.  I 
value  you  too  highly  to  lose,  and  esteem  you  too 
much  to  torment.  Do  not  make  of  yourself  one  of 
those  fools  who  feel,  or  pretend  to  feel,  I  care  not 
which,  such  preference  for  me.  You  cannot  know 
in  what  contempt  a  woman  holds  a  man  who  follows 
her  though  she  despises  him.  No  man  can  beg  a 
woman's  love;  he  must  command  it;  do  not  join 
their  ranks,  but  let  us  be  good  friends.  I  will  tell 
you  the  plain  truth  ;  it  would  be  no  different  were  we 
both  of  the  same  degree ;  even  then  I  could  not  feel 
toward  you  as  you  think  you  wish,  but  I  can  be  your 
friend,  and  will  promise  to  be  that  always,  if  you 
will  promise  never  again  to  speak  of  this  to  me." 

I  promised  solemnly  and  have  always  kept  my 


26     tOhen  K.nighihood  Wa^s  in  Flotuer 

word,  as  this  true,  gracious  woman,  so  full  of  faults 
and  beauties,  virtues  and  failings,  has,  ever  since 
that  day  and  moment,  kept  hers.  It  seemed  that  my 
love,  or  what  I  supposed  was  love,  left  my  heart  at 
once,  frozen  in  the  cold  glint  of  her  eyes  as  she 
smiled  upon  my  first  avowal;  somewhat  as  disease 
may  leave  the  sickened  body  upon  a  great  shock. 
And  in  its  place  came  the  restful  flame  of  a  friend's 
love,  which  so  softly  warms  without  burning.  But 
the  burning !  There  is  nothing  in  life  worth  having 
compared  with  it  for  all  its  pains  and  agonies.  Is 
there  ? 

"Now  if  you  must  love  somebody,"  continued  the 
princess,  "there  is  Lady  Jane  Bolingbroke,  who  is 
beautiful  and  good,  and  admires  you,  and,  I  think, 

could  learn  to "  but  here  the  lady  in  question 

ran  out  from  behind  the  draperies,  where,  I  believe, 
she  had  been  listening  to  it  all,  and  put  her  hand 
over  her  mistress'  mouth  to  silence  her. 

"Don't  believe  one  word  she  says,  Sir  Edwin,** 
cried  Lady  Jane ;  "if  you  do  I  never  will  like  you.'* 
The  emphasis  on  the  "will"  held  out  such  involun- 
tary promise  in  case  I  did  not  believe  the  princess, 
that  I  at  once  protested  total  want  of  faith  in  a  single 
syllable  she  had  said  about  her,  and  vowed  that  I 
knew  it  could  not  be  true ;  that  I  dared  not  hope  for 
such  happiness. 

You  see,  I  had  begun  to  make  love  to  Jane  almost 
before  I  was  off  my  knees  to  Mary,  and,  therefore, 
I  had  not  been  much  hurt  in  Mary's  case.    T  had 


The  Vrinces^  Mary  29 

suffered  merely  a  touch  of  the  general  epidemic,  not 
tlie  lingering,  chronic  disease  that  kills. 

Then  I  knew  that  the  best  cure  for  the  sting  which 
lies  in  a  luckless  love  is  to  love  elsewhere,  and  Jane, 
as  she  stood  there,  so  petite,  so  blushing  and  so  fair, 
struck  me  as  quite  the  most  pleasing  antidote  I  could 
possibly  find,  so  I  began  at  once  to  administer  to 
myself  the  delightful  counter-irritant.  It  was  a 
happy  thought  for  me ;  one  of  those  which  come  to 
a  man  now  and  then,  and  for  which  he  thanks  his 
wits  in  every  hour  of  his  after  life. 

But  the  winning  of  Jane  was  not  so  easy  a  matter 
as  my  vanity  had  prompted  me  to  think.  I  started 
with  a  handicap,  since  Jane  had  heard  my  declara- 
tion to  Mar}',  and  I  had  to  undo  all  that  before  I 
could  do  anything  else.  Try  the  same  thing  your- 
self with  a  spirited  girl,  naturally  laughter-loving 
and  coy,  if  you  think  it  a  simple,  easy  undertaking. 
I  began  to  fear  I  should  need  another  antidote  long 
before  I  heard  her  sweet  soul-satisfying  "yes."  I  do 
not  believe,  however,  I  could  have  found  in  the 
whole  world  an  antidote  to  my  love  for  Jane.  You 
see  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  won  her,  and  conceal 
nothing,  so  far  as  Jane  and  I  are  concerned,  for  the 
purpose  of  holding  you  in  suspense.  I  have  started 
out  to  tell  you  the  history  of  two  other  persons — if  I 
can  ever  come  to  it — but  find  a  continual  tendency 
on  the  part  of  my  own  story  to  intrude,  for  every 
man  is  a  very  important  personage  to  him-^elf.  I 
shall,  however,  try  to  keep  it  out. 


go     to  hen  Kjni^hthood  Wa>s  in  JTlobuet 

In  the  course  of  my  talk  with  Brandon  I  had,  as 
I  have  said,  told  him  the  story  of  Mary,  with  some 
slight  variations  and  coloring,  or  rather  discolor- 
ing, to  make  it  appear  a  little  less  to  my  discredit 
than  the  barefaced  truth  would  have  been.  I  told 
him  also  about  Jane ;  and,  I  grieve  and  blush  to  say, 
expressed  a  confidence  in  that  direction  I  little  felt. 

It  had  been  perhaps  a  year  since  my  adventure 
with  Mary,  and  I  had  taken  all  that  time  trying  to 
convince  Jane  that  I  did  not  mean  a  word  I  had  said 
to  her  mistress,  and  that  I  was  very  earnest  in  every- 
thing I  said  to  her.  But  Jane's  ears  would  have 
heard  just  as  much  had  they  been  the  pair  of  beauti- 
ful little  shells  they  so  much  resembled.  This 
troubled  me  a  great  deal,  and  the  best  I  could  hope 
was  that  she  held  me  on  probation. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  Mary  came  home  to 
Greenwich,  Brandon  asked :  "Who  and  what  on 
earth  is  this  wonderful  Mary  I  hear  so  much  about  ? 
They  say  she  is  coming  home  to-day,  and  the  court 
seems  to  have  gone  mad  about  it;  I  hear  nothing 
but  'Mary  is  coming!  Mary  is  coming!  Mary! 
Mary !'  from  morning  until  night.  They  say  Buck- 
ingham is  beside  himself  for  love  of  her.  He  has  a 
wife  at  home,  if  I  am  right,  and  is  old  enough  to 
fce  her  father.  Is  he  not  ?"  I  assented ;  and  Brandon 
continued:  "A  man  who  will  make  such  a  fool  of 
himself  about  a  woman  is  woefully  weak.  The  men 
©f  the  court  must  be  poor  creatures." 

He  had  much  to  learn  about  the  power  of  woman- 


The  'Prtnces^s  Mary  31 

hood.  There  is  nothing  on  earth — but  you  know  as 
much  about  it  as  I  do. 

"Wait  until  you  see  her,"  I  answered,  "and  you 
will  be  one  of  them,  also.  I  flatter  you  by  giving 
you  one  hour  with  her  to  be  heels  over  head  in  love. 
With  an  ordinary  man  it  takes  one-sixtieth  of  that 
time ;  so  you  see  I  pay  a  compliment  to  your  strength 
of  mind." 

"Nonsense!"  broke  in  Brandon.  "Do  you  think 
I  left  all  my  wits  down  in  Suffolk  ?  Why,  man,  she 
is  the  sister  of  the  king,  and  is  sought  by  kings  and 
emperors.  I  might  as  well  fall  in  love  with  a  twink- 
ling star.  Then,  besides,  my  heart  is  not  on  my 
sleeve.  You  must  think  me  a  fool ;  a  poor,  ener- 
vated, simpering  fool  like — like — well,  like  one  of 
those  nobles  of  England.  Don't  put  me  down  with 
them,  Caskoden,  if  you  would  remain  my  friend." 

We  both  laughed  at  this  sort  of  talk,  which  was  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  time,  for  a  noble,  though  an 
idiot,  to  the  most  of  England  was  a  noble  still,  God- 
created  and  to  be  adored. 

Another  great  bond  of  sympathy  between  Bran- 
don and  myself  was  a  community  of  opinion  con- 
cerning certain  theories  as  to  the  equality  of  men 
and  tolerance  of  religious  thought.  We  believed 
that  these  things  would  yet  come,  in  spite  of  king- 
craft and  priestcraft,  but  wisely  kept  our  pet  theories 
to  ourselves ;  that  is,  between  ourselves. 

Of  what  use  is  it  to  argue  the  equality  of  human 
kind  to  a  man  who  honestly  thinks  he  is  better  than 


Z2     Xe^hen  Kjiighihood  Was  in  riotvet 

any  one  else,  or  to  one  who  really  believes  that  some 
one  else  is  better  than  he;  and  why  dispute  about 
the  various  ways  of  savinrj  one's  soul,  when  you  are 
not  even  sure  you  have  a  soul  to  save  ?  When  I  open 
my  mouth  for  public  utterance,  the  king  is  the  best 
man  in  Christendom,  and  his  premier  peer  of  the 
realm  the  next  best.  When  the  king  is  a  Catholic  I 
go  to  Mass ;  since,  praised  be  the  Lord,  I  have  brains 
enough  not  to  let  my  head  interfere  witli  the  set 
w^ays  of  a  stone  wall. 

Now,  when  Mary  returned  the  whole  court  re- 
joiced, and  I  was  anxious  for  Brandon  to  meet  her 
and  that  they  should  become  friends.  There  would 
be  no  trouble  in  bringing  this  meeting  about,  since, 
as  you  know,  I  was  upon  terms  of  intimate  friend- 
ship with  Mary,  and  was  the  avowed,  and,  as  I 
thought,  at  least  hoped,  all  but  accepted  lover  of  her 
first  lady  in  waiting  and  dearest  friend.  Lady  Jane 
Bolingbroke.  Brandon,  it  is  true,  was  not  noble; 
not  even  an  English  knight,  while  I  was  both 
knighted  and  noble ;  but  he  was  of  as  old  a  family 
as  England  boasted,  and  near  of  kin  to  some  of  the 
best  blood  of  the  land.  The  meeting  came  about 
sooner  than  I  expected,  and  was  very  near  a 
failure.  It  was  on  the  second  morning  after  Mary's 
arrival  at  Greenwich.  Brandon  and  I  were  walking 
in  the  palace  park  when  we  met  Jane,  and  I  took  the 
opportunity  to  make  these,  my  two  best-loved 
friends,  acquainted. 

"How  do  you  do,  Master  Brandon?"  said  Lady 


The  Yrince>s^  Mary  33 

Jane,  holding  out  her  plump  little  hand,  so  white 
and  soft,  and  dear  to  me.  "I  have  heard  something 
of  you  the  last  day  or  so  from  Sir  Edwin,  but  had 
begun  to  fear  he  was  not  going  to  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  you.  I  hope  I  may  see  you 
often  now,  and  that  I  may  present  you  to  my  mis- 
tress." 

With  this,  her  eyes,  bright  as  overgrown  dew- 
drops,  twinkled  with  a  mischievous  little  smile,  as 
if  to  say :  "Ah,  another  large  handsome  fellow  to 
make  a  fool  of  himself." 

Brandon  acquiesced  in  the  wish  she  had  made, 
and,  after  the  interchange  of  a  few  words,  Jane  said 
her  mistress  was  waiting  at  the  other  side  of  the 
grounds,  and  that  she  must  go.  She  then  ran  oft* 
with  a  laugh  and  a  courtesy,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
sight  behind  the  shrubbery  at  the  turning  of  the 
walk. 

In  a  short  time  we  came  to  a  summer  house  near 
the  marble  boat-landing,  where  we  found  the  queen 
and  some  of  her  ladies  awaiting  the  rest  of  their 
party  for  a  trip  down  the  river,  which  had  been 
planned  the  day  before.  Brandon  was  known  to 
the  queen  and  several  of  the  ladies,  although  he  had 
not  been  formally  presented  at  an  audience.  Many 
of  the  king's  friends  enjoyed  a  considerable  intimacy 
with  the  whole  court  without  ever  receiving  the  pub- 
lic stamp  of  recognition,  socially,  which  goes  with  a 
formal  presentation. 

The  queen,  se^'n^  us,  sent  me  off  to  bring  the 


34     XOhen  Kjnighihood  Wa>s  in  JTU  te^er 

king.  After  I  had  gone,  she  asked  if  ar,y  one  had 
seen  the  Princess  Mary,  and  Brandon  told  her  Lady 
Jane  had  said  she  was  at  the  other  side  of  the 
grounds.  Thereupon  her  majesty  asked  Brandon  to 
find  the  princess  and  to  say  that  she  was  wanted. 

Brandon  started  off  and  soon  found  a  bevy  of 
girls  sitting  on  some  benches  under  a  spreading 
oak,  weaving  spring  flowers.  He  had  never  seen 
the  princess,  so  could  not  positively  know  her.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  know  her,  as  soon  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  her,  for  she  could  not  be  mistaken 
among  a  thousand — there  was  no  one  like  her  or 
anything  near  it.  Some  stubborn  spirit  of  opposi- 
tion, however,  prompted  him  to  pretend  ignorance. 
All  that  he  had  heard  of  her  wonderful  power  over 
men,  and  the  servile  manner  in  which  they  fell 
before  her,  had  aroused  in  him  a  spirit  of  antag- 
onism, and  had  begotten  a  kind  of  distaste  before- 
hand. He  was  wrong  in  this,  because  Mary  was 
not  a  coquette  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  and  did 
absolutely  nothing  to  attract  men,  except  to  be  so 
beautiful,  sweet  and  winning  that  they  could  not 
let  her  alone ;  for  all  of  which  surely  the  prince  of 
fault-finders  himself  could  in  no  way  blame  her. 

She  could  not  help  that  God  had  seen  fit  to  make 
her  the  fairest  being  on  earth,  and  the  responsi- 
bility would  have  to  lie  where  it  belonged — with 
God ;  Mary  would  have  none  of  it.  Her  attractive- 
ness was  not  a  matter  of  volition  or  intention  on 
her  part.    She  was  too  young  for  deliberate  snare- 


The  'Prince^^  Mary  35 

setting — though  it  often  begins  very  early  in  Wit-^ 
and  made  no  effort  to  attract  men.  Man's  love  was 
too  cheap  a  thing  for  her  to  strive  for,  and  I  am  sure, 
in  her  heart,  she  would  infinitely  have  preferred  to 
live  without  it — that  is,  until  the  right  one  should 
come.  The  right  one  is  always  on  his  way,  and, 
first  or  last,  is  sure  to  come  to  every  woman — some- 
times, alas !  too  late — and  when  he  comes,  be  it  late 
or  early,  she  crowns  him,  even  though  he  be  a  long- 
eared  ass.  Blessed  crown  !  and  thrice-blessed  blind- 
ness— else  there  were  fewer  coronations. 

So  Brandon  stirred  this  antagonism  and  deter- 
mined not  to  see  her  manifold  perfections,  which 
he  felt  sure  were  exaggerated ;  but  to  treat  her  as 
he  would  the  queen — who  was  black  and  leathery 
enough  to  frighten  a  satyr — with  all  respect 
due  to  her  rank,  but  with  his  own  opinion  of  her 
nevertheless,  safely  stored  away  in  the  back  of  his 
head. 

Coming  up  to  the  group,  Brandon  took  off  his 
hat,  and,  with  a  graceful  little  bow  that  let  the  curls 
fall  around  his  face,  asked :  "Have  I  the  honor  to 
find  the  Princess  Mary  among  these  ladies?" 

Mary,  who  I  know  you  will  at  once  say  was 
thoroughly  spoiled,  without  turning  her  face  toward 
him,  replied : 

"Is  the  Princess  Mary  a  person  of  so  little  conse- 
quence about  the  court  that  she  is  not  known  to  a 
mighty  captain  of  the  guard?" 

He  wore  his  guardsman's  doublet,  and  she  knew 


36     tOhen  K.ni^hthood  Wa^  in  Ftokoer 

his  rank  by  his  uniform.  She  had  not  noticed  his 
face. 

Quick  as  a  flash  came  the  answer :  "I  can  not 
say  of  what  consequence  the  Princess  Mary  is  about 
the  court ;  it  is  not  my  place  to  determine  such 
matters.  I  am  sure,  however,  she  is  not  here,  for 
I  doubt  not  she  would  have  given  a  gentle  answer 
to  a  message  from  the  queen.  I  shall  continue  my 
search."  With  this,  he  turned  to  leave,  and  the 
ladies,  including  Jane,  who  was  there  and  saw  it 
all  and  told  me  of  it,  awaited  the  bolt  they  knew 
would  come,  for  they  saw  the  lightning  gathering  in 
Alary's  eyes. 

Mary  sprang  to  her  feet  with  an  angry  flush  in 
her  face,  exclaiming:  "Insolent  fellow,  I  am  the 
Princess  Mary;  if  you  have  a  message,  deliver  it 
and  be  gone."  You  may  be  sure  this  sort  of  treat- 
ment was  such  as  the  cool-headed,  daring  Brandon 
would  repay  with  usury ;  so,  turning  upon  his  heel 
and  almost  presenting  his  back  to  Mary,  he  spoke  to 
Lady  Jane : 

"Will  your  ladyship  say  to  her  highness  that  her 
majesty,  the  queen,  awaits  her  coming  at  the  marble 
landing?" 

"No  need  to  repeat  the  message,  Jane,"  cried 
Mary.  "I  have  ears  and  can  hear  for  myself."  Then 
turning  to  Brandon :  "If  your  insolence  will  per- 
mit you  to  receive  a  message  from  so  insignificant 
a  person  as  the  king's  sister,  I  beg  you  to  say  to  the 
queen  that  I  shall  be  with  her  presently." 


The  'Prtnce^'f  Mary  37 

He  did  not  turn  his  face  toward  Mary,  but  bowed 
again  to  Jane. 

"May  I  ask  your  ladyship  further  to  say  for  me 
that  if  I  liave  been  guilty  of  any  discourtesy  I 
greatly  regret  it.  My  failure  to  recognize  the  Prin- 
cess Mary  grew  out  of  my  misfortune  in  never  hav- 
ing been  allowed  to  bask  in  the  light  of  her  counte- 
nance. I  cannot  believe  the  fault  lies  at  my  door, 
and  I  hope  for  her  own  sake  that  her  highness,  on 
second  thought,  will  realize  how  ungentle  and  un- 
kind some  one  else  has  been."  And  with  a  sweep- 
ing courtesy  he  walked  quickly  down  the  path. 

"The  insolent  wretch !"  cried  one. 

"He  ought  to  hold  papers  on  the  pillory,"  said 
another. 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  broke  in  sensible,  fearless 
little  Jane;  "I  think  the  Lady  Mary  was  wrong. 
He  could  not  have  known  her  by  inspiration." 

"Jane  is  right,"  exclaimed  Mary,  whose  temper, 
if  short,  was  also  short-lived,  and  whose  kindly 
heart  always  set  her  right  if  she  but  gave  it  a  little 
time.  Her  faults  were  rather  those  of  education 
than  of  nature.  "Jane  is  right ;  it  was  what  I  de- 
serv'ed.  I  did  not  think  when  I  spoke,  and  did  not 
really  mean  it  as  it  sounded.  He  acted  like  a  man, 
and  looked  like  one,  too,  when  he  defended  himself. 
I  warrant  the  pope  at  Rome  could  not  run  over  him 
with  impunity.  For  once  I  liave  found  a  real  live 
man,  full  of  manliness.  I  saw  him  in  the  lists  at 
Windsor  a  week  ago,  but  the  king  said  his  name  was 


38     XOhen  K,nighthood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

a  secret,  and  I  could  not  learn  it.  He  seemed  to 
know  yoti,  Jane.  Who  is  he?  Now  tell  us  all  you 
know.    The  queen  can  wait." 

And  her  majesty  waited  on  a  girl's  curiosity. 

I  had  told  Jane  all  I  knew  about  Brandon,  so  she 
was  prepared  with  full  information,  and  gave  it. 
She  told  the  princess  who  he  was ;  of  his  terrible 
duel  with  Judson ;  his  bravery  and  adventures  in  the 
wars;  his  generous  gift  to  his  brother  and  sisters, 
and  lastly,  "Sir  Edwin  says  he  is  the  best-read  man 
in  the  court,  and  the  bravest,  truest  heart  in  Chris- 
tendom." 

After  Jane's  account  of  Brandon,  they  all  started 
by  a  roundabout  way  for  the  marble  landing.  In 
a  few  moments  whom  did  they  see,  coming  toward 
them  down  the  path,  but  Brandon,  who  had  deliv- 
ered his  message  and  continued  his  walk.  When 
he  saw  whom  he  was  about  to  meet,  he  quickly 
turned  in  another  direction.  The  Lady  Mary  had 
seen  him,  however,  and  told  Jane  to  run  forward 
and  bring  him  to  her.  She  soon  overtoc^'  him  and 
said : 

"Master  Brandon,  the  princess  wishes  to  see  you." 
Then,  maliciously :  "You  will  suffer  this  time.  I 
assure  you  she  is  not  used  to  such  treatment.  It 
was  glorious,  though,  to  see  you  resent  such  an 
affront.  Men  usually  smirk  and  smile  foolishly  and 
thank  her  when  she  smites  them." 

Brandon  was  disinclined  to  return. 

"I  am  not  in  her  highness's  command,"  he  ari' 


The  T^rinces^  Mary  39 

swered,  "and  do  not  care  to  go  back  for  a  reprimand 
wlien  I  am  in  no  way  to  blame." 

"Oh,  but  you  must  come;  perhaps  she  will  not 
scold  this  time,"  and  she  put  her  hand  upon  his 
arm,  and  laughingly  drew  him  along.  Brandon,  of 
course,  had  to  submit  when  led  by  so  sweet  a  cap- 
tor— anybody  would.  5k)  fresh,  and  fair,  and  lov- 
able was  Jane,  that  I  am  sure  anything  masculine 
must  have  given  w^ay. 

Coming  up  to  the  princess  and  her  ladies,  who 
were  waiting,  Jane  said :  "Lady  Mary,  let  me  pre- 
sent Master  Brandon,  who,  if  he  has  offended  in 
any  way,  humbly  sues  for  pardon."  That  was  the 
one  thing  Brandon  had  no  notion  on  earth  of  doing, 
but  he  let  it  go  as  Jane  had  put  it,  and  this  was  his 
reward : 

"It  is  not  Master  Brandon  who  should  sue  for 
pardon,"  responded  the  princess,  "it  is  I  who  was 
wrong.  I  blush  for  what  I  did  and  said.  Forgive 
me,  sir,  and  let  us  start  anew."  At  this  she  stepped 
up  to  Brandon  and  offered  him  her  hand,  which  he, 
dropping  to  his  knee,  kissed  most  gallantly. 

"Your  highness,  you  can  well  afford  to  offend 
when  you  have  so  sweet  and  gracious  a  talent  for 
making  amends.  'A  wrong  acknowledged,'  as  some 
one  has  said,  'becomes  an  obligation.'  "  He  looked 
straight  into  the  girl's  eyes  as  he  said  this,  and  his 
gaze  was  altogether  too  strong  for  her,  so  the  lashes 
fell.  She  flushed  and  said  with  a  smile  that  brought 
ihe  dimples : 


40     X£}hen  Kjii^hrhood  Was  in  P'lotifef 


«i 


*I  thank  you ;  that  is  a  real  compliment."  Then 
laughingly:  "Much  better  than  extravagant  com- 
ments on  one's  skin,  and  eyes,  and  hair.  We  are 
going  to  the  queen  at  the  marble  landing.  Will  you 
walk  with  us,  sir?"  And  they  strolled  away  to- 
gether, while  the  other  girls  followed  in  a  whisper- 
ing, laughing  group. 

Was  there  ever  so  glorious  a  calm  after  such  a 
storm  ? 

"Then  those  mythological  compliments,"  contin- 
ued Mary,  "don't  you  dislike  them  ?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  have  ever  received  many — none 
that  I  recall,"  replied  Brandon,  with  a  perfectly 
straight  face,  but  with  a  smile  trying  its  best  to 
break  out. 

"Oh !  you  have  not  ?  Well !  how  would  you  like 
to  have  somebody  always  telling  you  that  Apollo 
was  humpbacked  and  misshapen  compared  with 
you;  that  Endymion  would  have  covered  his  face 
had  he  but  seen  yours,  and  so  on  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I  should  like  it — from 
some  persons,"  he  replied,  looking  ever  so  innocent. 

This  savored  of  familiarity  after  so  brief  an  ac- 
quaintance, and  caused  the  princess  to  glance  up  in 
slight  surprise;  but  only  for  the  instant,  for  his 
innocent  look  disarmed  her. 

"I  have  a  mind  to  see,"  she  returned,  laughing 
and  throwing  her  head  back,  as  she  looked  up  at  him 
out  of  the  corner  of  her  lustrous  eyes.  "But  I  will 
pay  you  a  better  compliment.    I  positively  thank  you 


The  T^rince-t-r  Mary  41 

for  the  rebuke.  I  do  many  things  like  that,  for 
which  I  am  always  sorry.  Oh !  you  don't  know 
how  difficult  it  is  to  be  a  good  princess."  And  she 
shook  her  head,  with  a  gathering  of  little  trouble- 
wrinkles  in  her  forehead,  as  much  as  to  say,  "There 
is  no  getting  away  from  it,  though."  Then  she 
breathed  a  soft  little  sigh  of  tribulation  as  they 
walked  on. 

"I  know  it  must  be  a  task  to  be  good  when  every- 
body flatters  even  one's  shortcomings,"  said  Bran- 
don, and  then  continued  in  a  way  that,  I  am  free  to 
confess,  was  something  priggish :  "It  is  almost 
impossible  for  us  to  see  our  own  faults,  even  when 
others  are  kind  enough  to  point  them  out,  for  they 
are  right  ugly  things  and  unpleasant  to  look  upon. 
But  lacking  those  outside  monitors,  one  must  all 
the  more  cultivate  the  habit  of  constant  inlooking 
and  self-examination.  If  we  are  only  brave  enough 
to  confront  o;  r  faults  and  look  them  in  the  face, 
ugly  as  they  .'  ""e,  we  shall  be  sure  to  overcome  the 
worst  of  them  A  striving  toward  good  will  achieve 
at  least  a  part  jf  it." 

"Oh !"  returned  the  princess,  "but  what  is  good 
and  what  is  wrong?  So  often  we  can  not  tell  them 
apart  until  we  look  back  at  what  we  have  done,  and 
ihen  it  is  all  too  late.  I  truly  wish  to  be  good  more 
inan  I  desire  anything  else  in  the  world.  I  am  so 
ignorant  and  helpless,  and  have  such  strong  inclina- 
tions to  do  wrong  that  sometimes  I  seem  to  be 
almost  all  wrong.     The  priests  say  so  much,  but 


42     XOhen  Kjiigh-thood  Wa^s  in  Plottter 

tell  us  so  little.  They  talk  about  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul,  and  a  host  of  other  saints  and  holy  fathers 
and  what-nots,  but  fail  to  tell  us  what  we  need  every 
moment  of  our  lives ;  that  is,  how  to  know  the  right 
when  we  see  it,  and  how  to  do  it ;  and  how  to  know 
the  wrong  and  how  to  avoid  it.  They  ask  us  to 
believe  so  much,  and  insist  that  faith  is  the  sura  of 
virtue,  and  the  lack  of  it  the  sum  of  sin;  that  to 
faith  all  things  are  added;  but  we  might  believe 
every  syllable  of  their  whole  disturbing  creed,  and 
then  spoil  it  all  through  blind  ignorance  of  what  is 
right  and  what  is  wrong." 

"As  to  knowing  right  and  wrong,"  replied  Bran- 
don, "I  think  I  can  give  you  a  rule  which,  although 
it  may  not  cover  the  whole  ground,  is  excellent  for 
every-day  use.  It  is  this :  Whatever  makes  others 
unhappy  is  wrong ;  whatever  makes  the  world  hap- 
pier is  good.  As  to  how  we  are  always  to  do  this, 
I  can  not  tell  you.  One  has  to  learn  that  by  trying. 
We  can  but  try,  and  if  we  fail  altogether,  there  is 
still  virtue  in  every  futile  effort  toward  the  right." 

Mary  bent  her  head  as  she  walked  along  ia 
thought. 

"What  you  have  said  is  the  only  approach  to  a 
rule  for  knowing  and  doing  the  right  I  have  ever 
heard.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  me  as  a  flatterer? 
But  it  will  do  no  good ;  the  bad  is  in  me  too  strong; 
it  always  does  itself  before  I  can  apply  any  rule,  or 
even  realize  what  is  coming."  And  again  she  shook 
her  head  with  a  bewitching  little  look  of  trouble. 


The  'PrinceS'S  Mary  43 

"Pardon  me,  your  highness ;  but  there  is  no  bad 
in  you.  It  has  been  put  on  you  by  others,  and  is  all 
on  the  outside ;  there  is  none  of  it  in  your  heart  at 
all.  That  evil  which  you  think  comes  out  of  you, 
simply  falls  from  you ;  your  heart  is  all  right,  or  I 
have  greatly  misjudged  you."  He  was  treating  her 
almost  as  if  she  were  a  child. 

"I  fear.  Master  Brandon,  you  are  the  most  adroit 
flatterer  of  all,"  said  Mary,  shaking  her  head  and 
looking  up  at  him  with  a  side  glance,  "people  have 
(!?luged  me  with  all  kinds  of  flattery — I  have  the 
diiTerent  sorts  listed  and  labeled — but  no  one  has 
ever  gone  to  the  extravagant  length  of  calling  me 
good.  Perhaps  they  think  I  do  not  care  for  that; 
but  I  like  it  best.  I  don't  like  the  others  at  all.  If 
I  am  beautiful  or  not,  it  is  as  God  made  me,  and  I 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  desire  no  credit, 
but  if  I  could  only  be  good  it  might  be  my  own 
doing,  perhaps,  and  I  ought  to  have  praise.  I  w^on- 
der  if  there  is  really  and  truly  any  good  in  me,  and 
if  you  have  read  me  aright."  Then  looking  up  at 
him  with  a  touch  of  consternation :  "Or  are  you 
laughing  at  me?" 

Brandon  wisely  let  the  last  suggestion  pass  unno- 
ticed. 

"I  am  sure  that  I  am  right;  you  have  glorious 
capacities  for  good,  but  alas  !  corresponding  possibil- 
ities for  evil.  It  will  eventually  all  dcf>end  upon  the 
man  you  marry.  He  can  make  out  of  you  a  perfect 
woman,  or  the  reverse."    Again  there  was  the  sur- 


M     ^6t//)en  Knighthood  Was  in  Etotoer 

prised  expression  in  Mary's  face,  but  Brandon's 
serious  look  disarmed  her. 

"I  fear  you  are  right,  as  to  the  reverse,  at  any 
rate;  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  choose  a  man  to  help  me,  but  shall  sooner  or  later 
be  compelled  to  marry  the  creature  who  will  pay  the 
greatest  price." 

"God  forbid!"  said  Brandon  reverently. 

They  were  growing  rather  serious,  so  Mary 
turned  the  conversation  again  into  the  laughing 
mood,  and  said,  with  a  half  sigh :  "Oh !  I  hope  you 
are  right  about  the  possibilities  for  good,  but  you  do 
not  know.    Wait  until  you  have  seen  more  of  me." 

"I  certainly  hope  I  shall  not  have  long  to  wait" 

The  surprised  eyes  again  glanced  quickly  up  to 
the  serious  face,  but  the  answer  came :  "That  you 
shall  not ; — but  here  is  the  queen,  and  I  suppose  we 
must  have  the  benediction."  Brandon  understood 
her  hint — ^that  the  preaching  was  over, — and  taking 
it  for  his  dismissal,  playfully  lifted  his  hands  in  imi- 
tation of  the  old  Bishop  of  Canterbury,  and  mur- 
mured the  first  line  of  the  Latin  benediction.  Then 
they  both  laughed  and  courtesied,  and  Brandor 
walked  away. 


CHATTE'R  /V 

A  Lesson  in  Danctn^ 

IL^-\UGHED  heartily  when  Jane  told  me  of  the 
tilt  between  Brandon  and  Princess  Mary,  the 
latter  of  whom  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  unkind 
things  and  being  thanked  for  them. 

Brandon  was  the  wrong  man  to  say  them  to,  as 
Mary  learned.  He  was  not  hot-tempered ;  in  fact. 
Just  the  reverse,  but  he  was  the  last  man  to  brook 
an  affront,  and  the  quickest  to  resent,  in  a  cool- 
headed,  dangerous  way,  an  intentional  offense. 

He  respected  himself  and  made  others  do  the 
same,  or  seem  to  do  so,  at  least.  He  had  no  vanity — 
which  is  but  an  inordinate  desire  for  those  qual- 
ities that  bring  self-respect,  and  often  the  result  of 
conscious  demerit — but  he  knew  himself,  and  knew 
that  he  was  entitled  to  his  own  good  opinion.  He 
was  every  inch  a  man,  strong,  intelligent  and  brave 
to  temerity,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  conse- 
quences, which  might  have  been  dangerous  had  it 
not  been  tempered  by  a  dash  of  prudence  and  cau- 
tion that  gave  him  ballast. 

I  was  not  surprised  when  I  heard  of  the  encoun- 
ter; for  I  knew  enough  of  him  to  be  sure  that 
Mary's  high-handedness  would  meet  its  counterpart 
in  my  cool  friend  Brandon.  It  was,  however,  an 
unfortunate  victory,  and  what  all  Mary'a  beauty 

(45) 


46     *When  Kjnighthood  Wa-s  in  Flower 

and  brightness  would  have  failed  to  do,  her  honest, 
open  acknowledgment  of  wrong,  following  so 
quickly  upon  the  heels  of  her  fault,  accomplished 
easily.  It  drew  him  within  the  circle  of  her  fatal 
attractions,  and  when  Jane  told  me  of  it,  I 
knew  his  fate  was  sealed,  and  that,  sooner  or  later, 
his  untouched  heart  and  cool  head  would  fall 
victim  to  the  shafts  that  so  surely  winged  all 
others. 

It  might,  and  probably  would,  be  "later,"  since, 
as  Brandon  had  said,  he  was  not  one  of  those  who 
wear  the  heart  upon  the  sleeve.  Then  he  had  that 
strong  vein  of  prudence  and  caution,  which,  in  view 
of  Mary's  unattainableness,  would  probably  come 
to  his  help.  But  never  was  man's  heart  strong 
enough  to  resist  Mary  Tudor's  smile  for  long. 

There  was  this  difference  between  Brandon  and 
most  others — he  would  be  slow  to  love,  but  when 
love  should  once  fairl}^  take  root  in  his  intense 
nature,  he  would  not  do  to  trifle  with. 

The  night  after  the  meeting,  Mary  cuddled  up 
to  Jane,  who  slept  with  her,  and  whispered,  half 
bashfully : 

"Tell  me  all  about  Brandon ;  I  am  interested  ini 
him.  I  believe  if  I  knew  more  persons  like  him  I 
should  be  a  better  girl,  notwithstanding  he  is  one  of 
the  boldest  men  I  ever  knew.  He  says  anything  he 
wishes,  and,  with  all  his  modest  manner,  is  as  cool 
•with  me  as  if  I  were  a  burgher's  daughter.  His 
modesty  is  all  on  the  outside,  but  it  is  pretty,  and 


A  Lesson  in  Dancing  47 

pretty  things  must  be  on  the  outside  to  be  useful. 
I  wonder  if  Judson  thought  him  modest?" 

Jane  talked  of  Brandon  to  Mary,  who  was  in  an 
excellent  humor,  until  the  girls  fell  asleep. 

When  Jane  told  me  of  this  I  became  frightened ; 
for  the  surest  way  to  any  woman's  heart  is  to  con- 
vince her  that  you  make  her  better,  and  arouse  in  her 
breast  purer  impulses  and  higher  aspirations.  It 
would  be  bad  enough  should  Brandon  fall  in  love 
with  the  princess,  which  was  almost  sure  to  hippen, 
but  for  them  to  fall  in  love  with  each  other  meant 
Brandon's  head  upon  the  block,  and  Mary's  heart 
bruised,  broken  and  empty  for  life.  Her  strong 
nature,  filled  to  the  brim  with  latent  passion,  was 
the  stuff  of  which  love  makes  a  conflagration  that 
bums  to  destruction ;  and  should  she  learn  to  love 
Brandon,  she  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  pos- 
sess him. 

She  whose  every  desire  from  childhood  up  had 
been  gratified,  whose  every  whim  seemed  to  her  a 
paramount  necessity,  would  stop  at  nothing  when 
the  dearest  wish  a  woman's  heart  can  coin  was  to 
be  gained  or  lost.  Brandon's  element  of  prudence 
might  help  him,  and  might  forestall  any  effort  on 
his  part  to  win  her,  but  Mary  had  never  heard  of 
prudence,  and  man's  caution  avails  but  little  when 
set  against  woman's  daring.  In  case  they  both 
should  love,  they  were  sure  to  try  for  each  other, 
and  in  trying  were  equally  sure  to  find  ruin  and 
desolation. 


48     XOhen  Knighthood  Was  in  Ftotuer 

A  few  evenings  after  this  I  met  the  princess  in' 
the  queen's  drawing-room.  She  beckoned  me  to 
her,  and,  resting  her  elbows  on  the  top  of  a  cabinet, 
her  chin  in  her  hands,  said:  "I  met  your  friend, 
Captain  Brandon,  a  day  or  two  ago.  Did  he  tell  you?" 

"No,"  I  answered ;  "Jane  told  me,  but  he  has  not 
mentioned  it." 

It  was  true  Brandon  had  not  said  a  word  of  the 
matter,  and  I  had  not  spoken  of  it,  either.  I  wanted 
to  see  how  long  he  would  remain  silent  concerning 
an  adventure  that  would  have  set  most  men  of  the 
court  boasting  at  a  great  rate.  To  have  a  tilt  with 
the  ever-victorious  Mary,  and  to  come  off  victor, 
was  enough,  I  think,  to  loosen  any  tongue  less  given 
to  bragging  than  Brandon's. 

"So,"  continued  Mary,  evidently  somewhat 
piqued,  "he  did  not  think  his  presentation  to  me  a 
thing  worth  mentioning?  We  had  a  little  passage- 
at-arms,  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  came  off  second 
best,  and  had  to  acknowledge  it,  too.  Now,  what 
do  you  think  of  this  new  friend  of  yours  ?  And  he 
did  not  boast  about  having  the  better  of  me  ?  After 
all,  there  is  more  virtue  in  his  silence  than  I  at  first 
thought."  And  she  threw  back  her  head,  and 
clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  with  the  most  con- 
tagious little  ripple  you  ever  heard.  She  seemed 
not  to  grieve  over  her  defeat,  but  dimpled  as  though 
it  were  a  huge  joke,  the  thought  of  which  rather 
pleased  her  than  otherwise.  Victory  had  grown 
stale  for  her,  although  so  young. 


A  Le^tson  in  Dancing  49 

"\Miat  do  I  think  of  my  new  friend?"  I  repeated 
after  her ;  and  tliat  gave  me  a  theme  upon  which  I 
could  enlarge  eloquently.  I  told  her  of  his  learning, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  had  been  in  the 
continental  wars  ever  since  he  was  a  boy.  I  repeated 
to  her  stories  of  his  daring  and  bravery,  that  had 
been  told  to  me  by  his  uncle,  the  Master  of  the 
Horse,  and  others,  and  then  I  added  what  I  knew 
Lady  Jane  had  already  said.  I  had  expected  to  be 
brief,  but  to  my  surprise  found  a  close  and  interested 
listener,  even  to  the  twice-told  parts,  and  drew  my 
stor}'  out  a  little,  to  the  liking  of  us  both. 

"Your  friend  has  an  earnest  advocate  in  you,  Sir 
Edwin,"  said  the  princess. 

'That  he  has,"  I  replied.  "There  is  nothing  too 
good  to  say  of  him." 

I  knew  that  Mary,  with  her  better,  clearer  brain, 
held  the  king  almost  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  so  I 
thought  to  advance  Brandon's  fortune  by  a  timely 
word. 

"1  trust  the  king  will  see  fit  toiavor  him,  and 
I  hope  that  you  will  speak  a  word  in  his  behalf, 
should  the  opportunity  occur." 

"What  in  the  name  of  heaven  have  we  to  give 
him  ?"  cried  Mary  impatiently,  for  she  kept  an  eye  on 
things  political,  even  if  she  were  only  a  girl — "the 
king  has  given  away  everything  that  ain  be  given, 
already,  and  now  that  the  war  is  over,  and  men  are 
coming  home,  there  are  hundreds  waiting  for  more. 
My  father's  great  treasure  is  squandered,  to  say 


50     tVhen  Kjiighihood  Was  in  Flotuer 

nothing  of  the  money  collected  from  Empson,  Dud- 
ley, and  the  other  commissioners.  There  is  nothing 
to  give  unless  it  be  the  titles  and  estate  of  the  late 
Duke  of  Suffolk.  Perhaps  the  king  will  give  these 
to  your  paragon,  if  you  will  paint  him  in  as  fair  ai^ 
light  as  you  have  drawn  him  for  me."  Then  throw- 
ing back  her  head  with  a  laugh,  "Ask  him." 

"It  would  be  none  too  much  for  his  deserts,"  I 
replied,  falling  in  with  her  humor. 

"We  will  so  arrange  it  then,"  went  on  Mary,  ban- 
teringly ;  "Captain  Brandon  no  longer,  but  Charles 
Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk.  How  sounds  it.  Master 
Caskoden  ?" 

"Sweet  in  my  ears,"  I  replied. 

"I  really  believe  you  would  have  the  king's 
crown  for  him,  you  absurd  man,  if  you  could  get 
it.  We  must  have  so  interesting  a  person  at  court ; 
I  shall  at  least  see  that  he  is  presented  to  the  queen 
at  once.  I  wonder  if  he  dances;  I  suppose  not. 
He  has  probably  been  too  busy  cutting  and  thrust- 
ing."   And  she  laughed  again  at  her  own  pleasantry. 

When  the  mirth  began  to  gather  in  her  face  and 
the  dimples  came  responsive  to  her  smiles;  when 
she  threw  back  her  perfectly  poised  head,  stretching 
her  soft,  white  throat,  so  full  and  round  and  beau- 
tiful, half  closing  her  big  brow^n  eyes  till  they  shone 
again  from  beneath  the  shade  of  those  long,  black 
sweeping  lashes ;  when  her  red  lips  parted,  showing 
her  teeth  of  pearl,  and  she  gave  the  little  clap  of  her 
hands — a  sort  of  climax  to  the  soft,  low,  rippling 


j\  Le^^on  in  T}ancin^  SI 

laugh — she  made  a  picture  of  such  exquisite  loveli- 
ness that  it  is  no  wonder  men  were  fools  about  her, 
and  caught  love  as  one  catches  a  contagion.  I  had 
it  once,  as  you  already  know,  and  had  recovered.  All 
that  prevented  a  daily  relapse  was  my  fair,  sweet 
antidote,  Jane,  whose  image  rested  in  my  heart,  a 
fasting  safeguard. 

"I  wonder  if  your  prodig>'  plays  cards;  that  is, 
such  as  we  ladies  play?"  asked  Mary.  "You  sav 
he  has  lived  much  in  France,  where  the  game  was 
invented,  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  scorn  to 
waste  his  time  at  so  frivolous  a  pursuit,  when  he 
might  he  slaughterinc^  armies  single-handed  and 
alone." 

"I  do  not  know  as  to  his  dancing  and  card-play- 
ing, but  I  dare  venture  a  wager  he  does  both,"  I 
replied,  not  liking  her  tone  of  sarcasm.  She  had 
yet  to  learn  who  Brandon  was. 

"I  will  hazard  ten  crowns,"  said  Mary  quickly,  for 
she  loved  a  wager  and  was  a  born  gambler. 

"Taken,"  said  I. 

"We  will  try  him  on  both  to-morrow  night  in 
my  drawing-room,"  she  continued.  "You  bring  him 
up,  but  tell  no  one.  I  will  have  Jane  there  with  her 
lute,  which  will  not  frighten  you  away,  I  know, 
and  we  will  try  his  step.  I  will  have  cards,  too, 
and  we  shall  see  what  he  can  do  at  triumph.  Just 
we  four — no  one  else  at  all.  You  and  Jane,  the  new 
Duke  of  Suffolk  and  I.  Oh !  I  can  hardly  wait," 
and  she  fairly  danced  with  joyous  anticipation. 


52     tOhen  K.ni^hthood  Was  in  Flotoer 

The  thing-  had  enough  irregularity  to  give  it  zest, 
for  while  Mary  often  had  a  few  young  people  in  her 
drawing-room,  the  companies  were  never  so  small 
as  two  couples  only,  and  the  king  and  queen,  to 
make  up  for  greater  faults,  were  wonderful  sticklers 
in  the  matter  of  little  proprieties. 

The  ten-crown  wager,  too,  gave  spice  to  it,  but 
to  do  her  justice  she  cared  very  little  for  that.  The 
princess  loved  gambling  purely  for  gambling's  sake, 
and  with  her,  the  next  best  thing  to  winning  was 
losing. 

When  I  went  to  my  room  that  night,  I  awakened 
Brandon  and  told  him  of  the  distinguished  honor 
that  awaited  him. 

"Well !  I'll  be"— but  he  did  not  say  what  he  would 
"be."  He  always  halted  before  an  oath,  unless 
angry,  which  was  seldom,  but  then  beware  ! — he  had 
learned  to  swear  in  Flanders.  "How  she  did  fly  at 
me  the  other  morning.  I  never  was  more  surprised 
in  all  my  life.  For  once  I  was  almost  caught  with 
my  guard  down,  and  did  not  know  how  to  parry 
the  thrust.  I  mumbled  over  some  sort  of  a  lame 
retaliation  and  beat  a  retreat.  It  was  so  unjust  and 
uncalled-for  that  it  made  me  angry;  but  she  was 
so  gracious  in  her  amends  that  I  was  almost  glad  it 
happened.  I  like  a  woman  who  can  be  as  savage 
as  the  very  devil  when  it  pleases  her;  she  usually 
has  in  store  an  assortment  of  possibilities  for  the 
other  extreme." 

"She  told  me  of  your  encounter,"  I  returned,  "but 


A  Lesion  in  Danct'n^  53 

said  she  had  come  off  second  best,  and  seemed  to 
think  her  overthrow  a  huge  joke." 

"The  man  who  learns  to  know  wiiat  a  woman 
thinks  and  feels  will  have  a  great  deal  of  valuable 
information,"  he  replied;  and  then  turneJ  over  for 
sleep,  greatly  pleased  that  one  woman  thought  as  she 
did. 

I  was  not  sure  he  would  be  so  highly  flattered  if 
he  knew  that  he  had  been  invited  to  settle  a  wager, 
and  to  help  Mary  to  a  little  sport. 

As  to  the  former,  I  had  an  interest  there  myself, 
although  I  dared  not  settle  the  question  by  asking 
Brandon  if  he  played  cards  and  danced ;  and,  as  to 
the  matter  of  Mar>''s  sport,  I  felt  there  was  but  little, 
if  any,  danger  of  her  having  too  much  of  it  at  his 
expense,  Brandon  being  well  able  to  care  for  himself 
in  that  respect. 

The  next  evening,  at  the  appointed  time,  we 
wended  our  way,  by  an  unfrequented  route,  and  pre- 
sented ourselves,  as  secretly  as  possible,  at  the  draw- 
ing-room of  the  princess. 

The  door  was  opened  by  Lady  Jane,  and  we  met 
the  two  girls  almost  at  the  threshold.  I  had  told 
Brandon  of  the  bantering  conversation  about  the 
title  and  estates  of  the  late  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  he 
had  laughed  over  it  in  the  best  of  humor.  If  quick 
to  retaliate  for  an  intentional  offense,  he  was  not 
thin-skinned  at  a  piece  of  pleasantry,  and  had  none 
of  that  stiff,  sensitive  dignity,  so  troublesome  to 
one's  self  and  friends. 


54     XOhen  Kjit^hthood  Wa>r  in  Ftoiaer 

Now,  Jane  and  Mary  were  always  bantering  me 
because  I  was  short,  and  inclined  to  be — in  fact — » 
round,  but  I  did  not  care.  It  made  them  laugh,  and 
their  laughing  was  so  contagious  it  made  me  laugh, 
too,  and  we  all  enjoyed  it.  I  would  give  a  pound 
sterling  any  time  for  a  good  laugh;  and  that,  I 
tliink,  is  why  I  have  always  been — round. 

So,  upon  entering,  1  said  : 

"His  grace,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  ladies." 

They  each  made  a  sweeping  courtesy,  with  hand 
on  breast,  and  gravely  saluted  him: 

"Your  grace !  good  even'." 

Brandon's  bow  was  as  deep  and  graceful,  if  that 
were  possible,  as  theirs,  and  when  he  moved  on  into 
the  room  it  was  with  a  little  halt  in  his  step,  and  a 
big  blowing  out  of  the  cheeks,  in  ludicrous  imita- 
tion of  his  late  lamented  predecessor,  that  sent  the 
girls  into  peals  of  soft  laughter  and  put  us  all  at 
our  ease  immediately. 

Ah!  what  a  thing  it  is  to  look  back  upon;  that 
time  of  life  when  one  finds  his  heaven  in  a  ready 
laugh ! 

"Be  seated  all,"  said  the  princess.  "This  is  to  be 
without  ceremony,  and  only  we  four.  No  one 
knows  a  word  of  it.  Did  you  tell  any  one,  Sir 
Edwin?"    , 

"Perish  the  thought,"  I  exclaimed. 

She  turned  her  face  toward  Brandon,  " — ^but  I 
know  you  did  not.  I've  heard  how  discreet  you 
were  about  another  matter.    Well,  no  one  knows  it 


-A  LC'S'ton  in  'Dancing  55 

then,  and  we  can  have  a  famous  evening.  You  did 
not  expect  this.  Master  Brandon,  after  my  reception 
of  you  the  other  moming?  Were  you  not  surprised 
v/hen  Sir  Edwin  told  you  ?" 

'*I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  I  was  prepared  not 
to  be  surprised  at  anything  your  highness  might 
graciously  conclude  to  do — after  my  first  experi- 
ence," he  answered,  smiling. 

"Indeed  ?"  returned  Mary  with  elevated  eyebrows, 
and  a  rising  inflection  on  the  last  syllable  of  the 
word.  It  was  now  her  turn  for  a  little  surprise. 
**Well,  we'll  try  to  find  some  way  to  surprise  you  one 
of  these  days ;"  and  the  time  came  when  she  was 
full  of  surprises  for  him.  Mary  continued:  "But 
let  us  not  talk  about  the  other  day.  Of  what  use 
are  'other  days,'  anyway?  Before  the  evening  is 
over,  Master  Brandon,  we  want  you  to  give  us  an- 
other sermon,"  and  she  laughed,  setting  off  three 
other  laughs  as  hearty  and  sincere  as  if  she  had  ut- 
tered the  rarest  witticism  on  earth. 

The  princess  had  told  Jane  and  Jane  had  told  me 
of  the  "Sermon  in  the  Park,"  as  Mary  called  it. 

"Jane  needs  it  as  much  as  I,"  said  the  princess. 

"I  can't  believe  that,"  responded  Brandon,  looking 
at  Jane  with  a  softening  glance  quite  too  admiring 
and  commendatory  to  suit  me ;  for  I  was  a  jealous 
little  devil. 

The  eyebrows  went  up  again. 

"Oh!  you  think  she  doesn't?  Well,  in  truth, 
Master  Brandon,  there  is  one  failing  that  can  not 


S6     te^hen  Kjat^hihood  Wcw  in  riotver 

be  laid  at  your  door;  you  are  no  flatterer."  For 
answer  Brandon  laughed,  and  that  gave  us  the  cue, 
and  away  we  went  in  a  rippling  chorus,  all  about 
nothing.  Some  persons  may  call  our  laughter  fool- 
ish, but  there  are  others  who  consider  it  the  height 
of  all  wisdom.  St.  George !  I'd  give  my  Garter  for 
just  one  other  laugh  like  that;  for  just  one  other 
hour  of  youth's  dancing  blood  and  glowing  soul- 
warmth;  of  sweet,  unconscious,  happy  heart-beat 
and  paradise-creating  joy  in  everything. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  gay  conversation,  in  which 
we  all  joined,  Mary  asked:  "What  shall  we  do? 
lWHI  one  of  you  suggest  something?" 

Jane  sat  there  looking  so  demure  you  would  have 
thought  mischief  could  not  live  within  a  league  of 
her,  but  those  very  demure  girls  are  nearly  always 
dangerous.    She  said,  oh !  so  innocently : 

"Would  you  like  to  dance?  If  so,  I  will  play.** 
And  she  reached  for  her  lute,  which  was  by  her 
side. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  delightful.  Master  Brandon, 
will  you  dance  with  me  ?"  asked  the  princess,  with  a 
saucy  little  laugh,  her  invitation  meaning  so  much 
more  to  three  of  us  than  to  Brandon.  Jane  and  I 
joined  in  the  laugh,  and  when  Mary  clapped  her 
hands  that  set  Brandon  off,  too,  for  he  thought  it 
the  quaintest,  prettiest  little  gesture  in  the  world, 
and  was  all  unconscious  that  our  laugh  was  at  his 
expense. 

Brandon  did  not  answer  Mary's  invitation — thm 


A  Le-f-ron  in  Dancing  57 

fit  of  laughter  had  probably  put  it  out  of  his  mind- 
so  she,  evidently  anxious  to  win  or  lose  her  wager  at 
once,  again  asked  him  if  he  danced. 

"Oh,  pardon  me.  Of  course.  Thank  you.'*  And 
he  was  on  his  feet  beside  her  chair  in  an  instant 
ready  for  the  dance.  This  time  the  girl's  laugh, 
though  equally  merry,  had  another  tone,  for  she 
knew  she  had  lost. 

Out  they  stepped  upon  the  polished  floor,  he  hold- 
ing her  hand  in  his,  awaiting  the  pause  in  the  music 
to  take  the  step.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  of 
those  two  standing  there  together — Mary,  dark- 
eyed  and  glowing ;  Brandon,  almost  rosy,  with  eyea 
that  held  the  color  of  a  deep  spring  sky,  and  a 
wealth  c  f  flowing  curls  crowning  his  six  feet  of  per- 
fect manhood,  strong  and  vigorous  as  a  young  lion. 
Mary,  full  of  beauty-curves  and  graces,  a  veritable 
Venus  in  her  teens,  and  Brandon,  an  Apollo,  with 
a  touch  of  Hercules,  were  a  complement  each  to  the 
other  that  would  surely  make  a  perfect  one. 

When  the  music  started,  off  they  went,  heel  and 
toe,  bow  and  courtesy,  a  step  forward  and  a  step 
back,  in  perfect  time  and  rhythm — a  poem  of 
human  motion.  Could  Brandon  dance?  The 
princess  had  her  answer  in  the  first  ten 
steps.  Nothing  could  be  more  graceful  than 
Brandon's  dancing,  unless  it  were  Marj''s.  Her 
slightest  movement  was  grace  itself.  When 
she  would  throw  herself  backward  in  thrusting  out 
her  toe,  and  then  swing  forward  with  her  h«ad  a 


S8     Xe^hen  Knighthood  Was  in  Flotafer 

little  to  one  side,  her  uplifted  arm  undulating  like 
the  white  neck  of  a  swan,— for  her  sleeve,  which 
was  slit  to  the  shoulder,  fell  back  and  left  it  bare,— 
she  was  a  sight  worth  a  long  journey  to  see.  And 
when  she  looked  up  to  Brandon  with  a  laugh  in  her 
brown  eyes,  and  a  curving  smile  just  parting  ber 
full,  red  lips,  that  a  man  would  give  his  very  luck 
to— but  I  had  better  stop. 

"Was  there  ever  a  goodlier  couple  ?"  I  asked  Jane, 
by  whose  side  I  sat. 

"Never,"  she  responded  as  she  played,  and, 
strange  to  say,  I  was  jealous  because  she  agreed 
with  m.e.  I  was  jealous  because  I  feared  it  was 
Brandon's  beauty  to  which  she  referred.  That  I 
thought  would  naturally  appeal  to  her.  Had  he  been 
less  handsome,  I  should  perhaps  have  thought  noth- 
ing of  it,  but  I  knew  what  my  feelings  were  toward 
Mary,  and  I  judged,  or  rather  misjudged,  Jane  by 
myself.  I  supposed  she  would  think  of  Brandon 
as  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  Mary.  Was  any- 
thing in  heaven  or  earth  ever  so  beautiful  as  that 
royal  creature,  dancing  there,  daintily  holding  up  her 
skirts  with  thumb  and  first  finger,  just  far  enough 
to  show  a  distracting  little  foot  and  ankle,  and  make 
one  wish  he  had  been  born  a  sheep  rather  than  a 
sentient  man  who  had  to  live  without  Mary  Tudor  ? 
Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  was  really  and  wholly 
in  love  with  Jane ;  in  fact,  I  loved  no  one  but  Jane, 
and  my  feeling  of  intense  admiration  for  Mary  was 
but  a  part  of  man's  composite  inconstancy. 


A  Les>fon  in  Dancing  59 

A  woman — God  bless  her — if  she  really  loves  a 
man,  has  no  thought  of  any  other;  one  at  a  time 
is  all-sufficient;  but  a  man  may  love  one  woman 
with  tlie  warmth  of  a  simoon,  and  at  the  same  time 
feel  like  a  good  healthy  south  wind  toward  a  dozen 
others.  That  is  the  difference  between  a  man  and 
a  woman — the  difference  between  the  good  and  the 
bad.  One  average  woman  has  enough  goodness  in 
her  to  supply  an  army  of  men. 

Mary  and  Brandon  went  on  dancing  long  after 
Jane  was  tired  of  playing.  It  was  plain  to  see  that 
the  girl  was  thoroughly  enjoying  it.  They  kept  up 
a  running  fire  of  small  talk,  and  laughed,  and 
smiled,  and  bowed,  and  courtesied,  all  in  perfect 
time  and  grace. 

It  is  more  difficult  tlian  you  may  think,  if  you 
have  never  tried,  to  keep  up  a  conversation  and 
dance  La  Galliard,  at  the  same  time — one  is  apt  to 
balk  the  other — but  Brandon's  dancing  was  as  easy; 
to  him  as  walking,  and,  although  so  small  a  matter, 
I  could  see  it  raised  him  vastly  in  the  estimation  of 
both  girls. 

"Do  you  play  triumph  ?"  I  beard  Mar}--  ask  in  the 
midst  of  the  dancing. 

"Oh  1  yes,"  replied  Brandon,  much  to  my  delight, 
as  the  princess  threw  a  mischievous,  knowing  glance 
over  her  shoulder  to  see  if  I  had  heard.  She  at 
once  saw  I  had,  and  this,  of  course,  settled  the 
wager. 

"And,"  continued  Brandon,  "I  also  play  the  new 


€o     tOhen  Kntghihood  Was  in  Flotuer 

game,  'honor  and  ruff/  which  is  more  interesting 
than  triumph." 

"Oh!  do  you?"  cried  Mary.  "That  will  more 
than  compensate  for  the  loss  of  my  ten  crowns.  Let 
us  sit  down  at  once ;  I  have  been  wishing  to  learn, 
but  no  one  here  seems  to  know  it.  In  France,  they 
say,  it  is  the  only  game.  I  suppose  there  is  where 
you  learned  it  ?  Perhaps  you  know  their  new  dances 
too !    I  have  heard  they  are  delightful  I'* 

"Yes,  I  know  them,"  replied  Brandon. 

"Why,  you  are  a  perfect  treasure;  teach  me  at 
once.  How  now,  Master  of  the  Dance?  Here  is 
your  friend  outdoing  you  in  your  own  line." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  I  returned. 

"If  Lady  Jane  will  kindly  play  some  lively  air, 
written  in  the  time  of  'The  Sailor  Lass,'  I  will  teach 
the  Lady  Mary  the  new  dance,"  said  Brandon. 

Jane  threw  one  plump  little  knee  over  the  other 
and  struck  up  "The  Sailor  Lass."  After  she  had 
adjusted  the  playing  to  Brandon's  suggestion,  he 
stepped  deliberately  in  front  of  Mary,  and,  taking 
her  right  hand  in  his  left,  encircled  her  waist  with 
his  right  arm.  The  girl  was  startled  at  first  and 
•  drew  away.  This  nettled  Brandon  a  little,  and  he 
showed  it  plainly. 

"I  thought  you  wished  me  to  teach  you  the  new 
dance?"  he  said. 

"I  do,  but — but  I  did  not  know  it  was  danced  that 
way,"  she  replied  with  a  fluttering  little  laugh,  look- 
ing up  into  his  face  with  a  half  shy,  half  apologetic 


A.  Les-ton  in  'Dancing  6t 

manner,  and  then  dropping-  her  lashes  before  his 
gaze. 

"Oh,  well!"  said  Brandon,  with  a  Frenchman's 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  then  moved  off  as  if 
about  to  leave  the  floor. 

"But  is  that  really  the  way  you — they  dance 
it?  With  your — their  arm  around  my — a  lady's 
waist?" 

"I  should  not  have  dared  venture  upon  such  a  fa- 
miliarity otherwise,"  answered  Brandon,  with  a 
glimmer  of  a  smile  playing  around  his  lips  and  hid- 
ing in  his  eyes, 

Mary  saw  this  shadowy  smile,  and  said :  "Oh !  I 
fear  your  modesty  will  cause  you  hurt ;  I  am  begin- 
ning to  believe  you  would  dare  do  anything  you 
wish.  I  more  than  half  suspect  you  are  a  very  bold 
man,  notwithstanding  your  smooth,  modest  man- 
ner." 

"You  do  me  foul  wrong,  I  assure  you.  I  am  the 
soul  of  modesty,  and  grieve  that  you  should  think 
me  bold,"  said  Brandon,  with  a  broadening  smile. 

Mary  interrupted  him.  "Now,  I  do  believe  you 
are  laughing  at  me — at  my  prudery,  I  suppose  you 
think  it." 

Mary  would  rather  have  been  called  a  fool  than  a 
prude,  and  I  think  she  was  right.  Prudery  is  no 
more  a  sign  of  virtue  than  a  wig  is  of  hair.  It  is 
usually  put  on  to  hide  a  bald  place. 

The  princess  stood  irresolute  for  a  moment,  in 
evident  hesitation  and  annovance. 


62     tOhen  Kjiighlhood  Wa^f  in  Floteter 

"You  are  grieving  because  I  think  you  bold !  And 
yet  you  stand  there  laughing  at  me  to  my  face.  I 
think  so  more  than  ever  now.  I  know  it.  Oh,  you 
make  me  angry !  Don't  I  I  do  not  hke  persons  who 
anger  me  and  then  laugh  at  me."  This  turned  Bran- J 
don's  smile  into  a  laugh  which  he  could  not  hold 
back. 

Mary's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  she  stamped  her  foot, 
exclaiming:  "Sir,  this  goes  beyond  all  bounds;  I 
will  not  tolerate  your  boldness  another  moment."  I 
thought  she  was  going  to  dismiss  him,  but  she  did 
not.  The  time  had  come  when  he  or  she  must  be 
the  master. 

It  was  a  battle  royal  between  the  forces  on  the 
floor,  and  I  enjoyed  it  and  felt  that  Brandon  would 
come  out  all  right. 

He  said  good-humoredly :  "What,  shall  you  have 
all  the  laugh  in  your  sleeve  at  my  expense?  Do 
you  expect  to  bring  me  here  to  win  a  wager  for 
you,  made  on  the  assumption  of  my  stupidity  and 
lack  of  social  accomplishments,  and  then  complain 
when  it  comes  my  turn  to  laugh  ?  I  think  I  am  the 
one  who  should  be  offended,  but  you  see  I  am  not." 

"Caskoden,  did  you  tell  him?"  demanded  Mary, 
evidently  referring  to  the  wager. 

"He  said  not  a  word  of  it,"  broke  in  Brandon, 
answering  for  me;  *T  should  have  been  a  dullard, 
indeed,  not  to  have  seen  it  myself  after  what  you 
said  about  the  loss  of  your  ten  crowns;  so  let  us 
cry  quits  and  begin  again/* 


A  Les^ron  in  Dancing  63 

Mary  reluctantly  struck  her  flag. 

**Ver>'  well,  I  am  willing,"  she  said  laughingly; 
"but  as  to  your  boldness,  I  still  insist  upon  that ;  I 
forgive  you,  however,  this  time."  Then,  half  apolo- 
getically, "After  all,  it  is  not  such  a  grievous  charge 
to  make.  I  believe  it  never  yet  injured  any  man 
with  women;  they  rather  like  it.  I  am  afraid,  how- 
ever angr>'  it  makes  them.    Don't  they,  Jane?" 

Jane,  of  course,  "did  not  know,"  so  we  all 
laughed,  as  usual,  upon  the  slightest  pretext,  and 
Mary,  that  fair  bundle  of  contradictions  and  quick 
transitions,  stepped  boldly  up  to  Brandon,  with 
her  colors  flying  in  her  cheeks,  ready  for  the  first 
lesson  in  the  new  dance. 

She  was  a  little  frightened  at  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  for  the  embrace  was  new  to  her — the  first 
touch  of  man — and  was  shy  and  coy,  though  willing, 
being  determined  to  learn  the  dance.  She  was  an 
apt  pupil  and  soon  glided  softly  and  gracefully 
around  the  room  with  unfeigned  delight;  yielding 
to  the  new  situation  more  easily  as  she  became  ac- 
customed to  it. 

This  dance  was  livelier  exercise  than  La  Galliard, 
and  Mary  could  not  talk  much  for  lack  of  breath. 
Brandon  kept  the  conversation  going,  though,  and 
she  answered  with  glances,  smiles,  nods  and 
monosyllables-  -a  very  good  vocabulary  in  its  way, 
and  a  very  good  way,  too,  for  that  matter. 

Once  he  said  something  to  her,  in  a  low  voice, 
which  brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks,  and  caused 


^4     tOhen  K.nighihood  Wa>f  in  Flotuef 

her  to  glance  quickly  up  into  his  face.  By  the  time 
her  answer  came  they  were  nearer  us,  and  I  heard 
her  say :  "I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  forgive  you 
again  if  you  are  not  careful.  Let  me  see  an  exhibi- 
tion of  that  modesty  you  so  much  boast."  But  a 
smile  and  a  flash  of  the  eyes  went  with  the  words, 
and  took  all  the  sting  out  of  them. 

After  a  time  the  dancers  stopped,  and  Mary,  with 
flushed  face  and  sparkling  eyes,  sank  into  a  chair, 
exclaiming:  ''The  new  dance  is  delightful,  Jane. 
It  is  like  flying;  your  partner  helps  you  so.  But 
what  would  the  king  say?  And  the  queen?  She 
would  simply  swoon  with  horror.  It  is  delightful, 
though."  Then,  with  more  confusion  in  her  manner 
than  I  had  ever  before  seen :  "That  is,  it  is  delight- 
ful if  one  chooses  her  partner." 

.  This  only  made  matters  worse,  and  gave  Bran- 
don an  opportunity. 

"Dare  I  hope  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  deferential  bow. 

"Oh,  yes;  you  may  hope.  I  tell  you  frankly  it 
was  delightful  with  you.  Now,  are  you  satisfied, 
my  modest  one?  Jane,  I  see  we  have  a  forward 
body  here ;  no  telling  what  he  will  be  at  next,"  said 
Mary,  with  evident  impatience,  rapidly  swaying  her 
fan.  She  spoke  almost  sharply,  for  Brandon's  atti- 
tude was  more  that  of  an  equal  than  she  was  accus- 
tomed to,  and  her  royal  dignity,  which  was  the 
artificial  part  of  her,  rebelled  against  it  now  and 
then  in  spite  of  her  real  inclinations.  The  habit  of 
receiving  only  adulation,  and  living  on  a  pinnacle 


A  Le^'Son  in  'Dancing  65 

above  everybody  else,  was  so  strong  from  continued 
practice,  that  it  appealed  to  her  as  a  duty  to  main- 
tain that  elevation.  She  had  never  before  been 
called  uf)on  to  exert  herself  in  that  direction,  and  the 
situation  was  new.  The  servile  ones  with  whom 
she  usually  associated  maintained  it  for  her;  so 
she  now  felt,  whenever  she  thought  of  it,  that  she 
was  in  duty  bound  to  clamber  back,  at  least  part  of 
the  way,  to  her  dignity,  however  pleasant  it  was, 
personally,  down  below  in  the  denser  atmosphere  of 
informality. 

In  her  heart  the  princess  preferred,  upon  proper 
occasions,  such  as  this,  to  abate  her  dignity,  and 
often  requested  others  to  dispense  with  ceremony, 
as,  in  fact,  she  had  done  with  us  earlier  in  the  even- 
ing. But  Brandon's  easy  manner,  although  per- 
fectly respectful  and  elegantly  polite,  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  anything  she  had  ever  known.  She 
enjoyed  it,  but  every  now  and  then  the  sense  of  her 
importance  and  dignity — for  you  must  remember 
she  was  the  first  princess  of  the  blood  royal — would 
supersede  even  her  love  of  enjoyment,  and  the  girl 
went  down  and  the  princess  came  up.  Besides,  she 
half  feared  that  Brandon  was  amusing  himself  at 
her  expense,  and  that,  in  fact,  this  was  a  new  sort 
of  masculine  worm.  Really,  she  sometimes  doubted 
if  it  were  a  worm  at  all,  and  did  not  know  what  to 
exfKct,  nor  what  she  ought  to  do. 

She  was  far  more  girl  than  princess,  and  would 
have  preferred  to  remain  merely  girl  and  let  events 


66     XOhen  Ksitghihood  Wa^  in  Flobuer 

take  the  course  they  were  going,  for  she  liked  it. 
But  there  was  the  other  part  of  her  which  was  prin- 
cess, and  which  kept  saying :  "Remember  who  you 
are,"  so  she  was  plainly  at  a  loss  between  natural 
and  artificial  inclinations  contending  unconsciously 
within  her. 

Replying  to  Mary's  remark  over  Jane's  shoulder, 
Brandon  said: 

"Your  highness  asked  us  to  lay  aside  ceremony 
for  the  evening,  and  if  I  have  offended  I  can  but 
make  for  my  excuse  my  desire  to  please  you.  Be 
sure  I  shall  offend  no  more."  This  was  said  so 
seriously  that  his  meaning  could  not  be  misunder- 
stood. He  did  not  care  whether  he  pleased  so  capri- 
cious a  person  or  not. 

Mary  made  no  reply,  and  it  looked  as  if  Brandon 
had  the  worst  of  it. 

We  sat  a  few  minutes  talking,  Mary  wearing  an 
air  of  dignity.  Cards  were  proposed,  and  as  the 
game  progressed  she  gradually  unbent  again  and  be- 
came as  affable  and  familiar  as  earlier  in  the  evening. 
Brandon,  however,  was  frozen.  He  was  polite,  dig- 
nified and  deferential  to  the  ladies,  but  the  spirit 
of  the  evening  was  gone,  since  he  had  furnished  it 
all  with  his  free,  off-hand  manner,  full  of  life  and 
brightness. 

After  a  short  time,  Mary's  warming  mood  failing 
to  thaw  our  frozen  fun-maker,  and  in  her  heart  infi- 
nitely preferring  pleasure  to  dignity,  she  said :  "Oh, 
this  is  wearisome.    Your  game  is  far  less  entertain* 


A  Les^son  in  Dancing  67 

ing  than  your  new  dance.  Do  something  to  make 
me  laugh,  Master  Brandon." 

''I  fear  you  must  call  in  Will  Sommers,"  he  re- 
plied, "if  you  wish  to  laugh.  I  can  not  please  you 
in  both  ways,  so  will  hold  to  the  one  which  seems 
to  suit  the  princess." 

Mary's  eyes  flashed  and  she  said  ironically: 

"That  sounds  ver}'  much  as  though  you  cared  to 
please  me  in  any  way."  Her  lips  parted  and  she 
evidently  had  something  unkind  ready  to  say;  but 
she  held  the  breath  she  had  taken  to  speak  it  with, 
and,  after  one  or  two  false  starts  in  as  many  differ- 
ent lines,  continued:  "But  perhaps  I  deserve  it.  I 
ask  you  to  forgive  me,  and  hereafter  desire  you 
three,  upon  all  proper  occasions,  when  we  are  by 
ourselves,  to  treat  me  as  one  of  you — as  a  woman — 
a  girl,  I  mean.  Where  is  the  virtue  of  royalty  if 
it  only  means  being  put  upon  a  pinnacle  above  all 
the  real  pleasures  of  life,  like  foolish  old  Stylites  on 
his  column  ?  The  queen  is  always  preaching  to  me 
about  the  strict  maintenance  of  my  'dignity  royal,' 
as  she  calls  it,  and  perhaps  she  is  right;  but  out 
upon  'dignity  royal'  say  I ;  it  is  a  terrible  nuisance. 
Oh,  you  don't  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  be  a  prin- 
cess and  not  a  fool.  There!"  And  she  sighed  in 
apparent  relief. 

Then  turning  to  Brandon :  "You  have  taught  me 
another  good  lesson,  sir,  and  from  this  hour  you 
are  my  friend,  if  you  will  be,  so  long  as  you  are 
worthy — no,  I  do  not  mean  that ;   I  know  you  will 


68     XOhen  Kjnighthood  Wa^  in  riobuep 

always  be  worthy — ^but  forever.  Now  we  are  at 
rights  again.  Let  us  try  to  remain  so — that  is,  I 
will,"  and  she  laughingly  gave  him  her  hand,  which 
he,  rising  to  his  feet,  bowed  low  over  and  kissed, 
rather  fervently  and  lingeringly,  I  thought. 

Hand-kissing  was  new  to  us  in  England,  except- 
ing in  case  of  the  king  and  queen  at  public  homage. 
It  was  a  little  startling  to  Mary,  though  she  per- 
mitted him  to  hold  her  hand  much  longer  than  there 
was  any  sort  of  need — a  fact  she  recognized,  as  I 
could  easily  see  from  her  tell-tale  cheeks,  which 
were  rosy  with  the  thought  of  it. 

So  it  is  when  a  woman  goes  on  the  defensive  pre- 
maturely and  without  cause ;  it  makes  it  harder  to 
apply  the  check  when  the  real  need  comes. 

After  a  little  card-playing,  I  expressed  regret  to 
Jane  that  I  could  not  have  a  dance  with  her  for  lack 
of  music. 

"I  will  play,  if  the  ladies  permit,"  said  Bran- 
don ;  and  he  took  Lady  Jane's  lute  and  played  and 
sang  some  very  pretty  little  love  songs  and  some 
comic  ones,  too,  in  a  style  not  often  heard  in  Eng- 
land, so  far  away  from  the  home  of  the  troubadour 
and  lute.  He  was  full  of  surprises,  this  splendid 
fellow,  with  his  accomplishments  and  graces. 

When  we  had  danced  as  long  as  we  wished — that 
is,  as  Jane  wished — as  for  myself,  I  would  have  been 
dancing  yet — Mary  again  asked  us  to  be  seated. 
Jane  having  rested,  Brandon  offered  to  teach  her  the 
new  dance,  saying  he  could  whistle   an   air   well 


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A  Le^^on  in  'Dancing  69 

enough  to  give  her  the  step.  I  at  once  grew  uneasy 
with  jealous  suspense,  for  I  did  not  wish  Brandon  to 
dance  in  that  fasliion  with  Jane,  but  to  my  great 
relief  she  repHed: 

"No;  thank  you;  not  to-night."  Then  shyly 
glancing  toward  me:  "Perhaps  Sir  Edwin  will 
teach  me  when  he  learns.  It  is  his  business,  you 
know." 

Would  I  ?  If  a  month,  night  and  day,  would  con- 
quer it,  the  new  dance  was  as  good  as  done  for 
already.  That  was  the  first  real  mark  of  favor  I 
ever  had  from  Jane. 

We  now  had  some  songs  from  Mary  and  Jane; 
then  I  gave  one,  and  Brandon  sang  again  at  Mary's 
request.  We  had  duets  and  quartets  and  solos, 
and  the  songs  were  all  sweet,  for  they  came  from 
the  heart  of  youth,  and  went  to  the  soul  of  youth, 
rich  in  its  God-given  fresh  delight  in  everything. 
Then  we  talked,  and  Mary,  and  Jane,  too,  with  a 
sly,  shy,  soft  little  word  now  and  then,  drew  Bran- 
don out  to  tell  of  his  travels  and  adventures.  He 
was  a  pleasing  talker,  and  had  a  smooth,  easy  flow 
of  words,  speaking  always  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  and 
with  perfect  composure.  He  had  a  way  of  looking 
first  one  auditor  and  then  another  straight  in  the 
eyes  with  a  magnetic  effect  that  gave  to  ever>'thing 
he  said  an  added  interest.  Although  at  that  time 
less  than  twenty-five  years  old,  he  was  really  a 
learned  man,  having  studied  at  Barcelona,  Sala- 
manca and  Paris.    While  there  had  been  no  system 


70     XOhen  Kjni^hthood  Wa>f  in  Flciuef 

in  his  education,  his  mind  was  a  sort  of  knowledge 
junk-shop,  wherein  he  could  find  almost  anything  he 
wanted.  He  spoke  German,  French  and  Spanish, 
and  seemed  to  know  the  literature  of  all  these  lan- 
guages. 

He  told  us  he  had  left  home  at  the  early  age  of 
sixteen  as  his  uncle's  esquire,  and  had  fought  in 
France,  then  down  in  Holland  with  the  Dutch ;  had 
been  captured  by  the  Spanish  and  had  joined  the 
Spanish  army,  as  it  mattered  not  where  he  fought, 
so  that  there  was  a  chance  for  honorable  achieve- 
ment and  a  fair  ransom  now  and  then.  He  told  us 
how  he  had  gone  to  Barcelona  and  Salamanca, 
where  he  had  studied,  and  thence  to  Granada, 
among  the  Moors;  of  his  fighting  against  the 
pirates  of  Barbary,  his  capture  by  them,  his  slavery 
and  adventurous  escape;  and  his  regret  that  now 
drowsy  peace  kept  him  mewed  up  in  a  palace. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  prospect  of  trouble 
with  Scotland,  but  I  would  rather  fight  a  pack  of 
howling,  starving  wolves  than  the  Scotch;  they 
fight  like  very  devils,  which,  of  course,  is  well; 
but  you  have  nothing  after  you  have  beaten  them, 
not  even  a  good  whole  wolf  skin." 

In  an  unfortunate  moment  Mary  said:  "Oh, 
Master  Brandon,  tell  us  of  your  duel  with  Judson.'* 

Thoughtful,  considerate  Jane  frowned  at  the  prin- 
cess in  surprise,  and  put  her  finger  on  her  lips. 

"Your  ladyship,  I  fear  I  can  not,"  he  answered, 
and  left  his  seat,  going  over  to  the  window,  where 


A  Le^^on  in  Dancing  7' 

he  stood,  with  his  back  toward  us,  looking  out  into 
the  darkness.  Mary  saw  what  she  had  done,  and 
her  eyes  grew-  moist,  for,  with  all  her  faults,  she 
had  a  warm,  tender  heart  and  a  quick,  responsive 
sympathy.  After  a  few  seconds  of  painful  silence, 
she  went  softly  over  to  the  window  where  Brandon 
stood. 

"Sir,  forgive  me,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  pret- 
tily upon  his  arm.  "I  should  have  known.  Believe 
rre,  I  would  not  have  hurt  you  intentionally." 

**Ah !  my  lady,  the  word  was  thoughtlessly  spoken, 
and  needs  no  forgiveness;  but  your  heart  shows 
itself  in  the  asking,  and  I  thank  you ;  I  wanted  but 
a  moment  to  throw  off  the  thought  of  that  terrible 
day."  Then  they  came  back  together,  and  the  prin- 
cess, who  had  tact  enough  when  she  cared  to  use  it, 
soon  put  matters  right  again. 

I  started  to  tell  one  of  my  best  stories  in  order 
to  cheer  Brandon,  but  in  the  midst  of  it,  Mary,  who, 
I  had  noticed,  was  restless  and  uneasy,  full  of 
blushes  and  hesitancy,  and  with  a  manner  as  new  to 
her  as  the  dawn  of  the  first  day  was  to  the  awaken- 
ing world,  abruptly  asked  Brandon  to  dance  with 
her  again.  She  had  risen  and  was  standing  by  her 
chair,  ready  to  be  led  out. 

"Gladly,"  answered  Brandon,  as  he  sprang  to  her 
side  and  took  her  hand.  "Which  shall  it  be.  La 
Galliard  or  the  new  dance?"  And  Mar>'  standing 
there,  the  picture  of  waiting,  willing  modesty,  lifted 
her  free  hand  to  his  shoulder,  tried  to  raise  her  eyes 


72     ^€Ohen  Knighthood  Wcur  in  Flotouet 

to  his,  but   failed,  and    softly    said:     "The  new 
dance." 

This  time  the  dancing  was  more  soberly  done, 
and  when  Mary  stopped  it  was  with  serious, 
thoughtful  eyes,  for  she  had  felt  the  tingling  of  a 
new  strange  force  in  Brandon's  touch.  A  man,  not 
a  worm,  but  a  real  man,  with  all  the  irresistible 
infinite  attractions  that  a  man  may  have  for  a  woman 
— ^the  subtle  drawing  of  the  lodestone  for  the  pas- 
sive iron — had  come  into  her  life.  Doubly  sweet 
it  was  to  her  intense,  young  virgin  soul,  in  that  it 
first  revealed  the  dawning  of  that  two-edged  bliss 
which  makes  a  heaven  or  a  hell  of  earth — of  earthy 
iwhich  owes  its  very  existence  to  love. 

I  do  not  mean  that  Mary  was  in  love,  but  that  she 
had  met,  and  for  the  first  time  felt  the  touch,  yes 
even  the  subtle,  unconscious,  dominating  force  so 
sweet  to  woman,  of  the  man  she  could  love,  and  had 
known  the  rarest  throb  that  pulses  in  that  choicest 
of  all  God's  perfect  handiwork — a  woman's  heart — 
the  throb  that  goes  before — the  John,  the  Baptist, 
as  it  were,  of  coming  love. 

It  being  after  midnight,  Mary  filled  tv^  cups  of 
wine,  from  each  of  which  she  took  a  sip,  and  handed 
them  to  Brandon  and  me.  She  then  paid  me  the 
ten  crowns,  very  soberly  thanked  us  and  said  we 
were  at  liberty  to  go. 

The  only  words  Brandon  ever  spoke  concerning 
that  evening  were  just  as  we  retired : 

"Jesu !  she  is  perfect.    But  you  were  wrong,  Cas- 


A.  Lies^on  in  Dancing  73 

koden.  I  can  still  thank  God  I  am  not  in  love  with 
her.    I  would  fall  upon  my  sword  if  I  were." 

I  was  upon  the  point  of  telling  him  she  had  never 
treated  any  other  man  as  she  had  treated  him,  but  I 
thought  best  to  leave  it  unsaid.  Trouble  was  apt 
to  come  of  its  own  accord  soon  enough. 

In  truth,  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  that  when  the 
princess  asked  me  to  bring  Brandon  to  her  that 
she  might  have  a  little  sport  at  his  expense,  she 
looked  for  a  laugh,  but  found  a  sigh. 


CHATTB'R  V 

An  Honor  and  an  £nemy 

A  DAY  or  two  after  this,  Brandon  was  cxm* 
manded  to  an  audience,  and  presented  to  the 
king  and  queen.  He  was  now  eligible  to  all 
palace  entertainments,  and  would  probably  have 
many  invitations,  being  a  favorite  with  both  their 
majesties.  As  to  his  standing  with  Mary,  who  was 
really  the  most  important  figure,  socially,  about  the 
court,  I  could  not  exactly  say.  She  was  such  a  mix- 
ture of  contradictory  impulses  and  rapid  transi- 
tions, and  was  so  full  of  whims  and  caprice,  the 
inevitable  outgrowth  of  her  blood,  her  rank  and  the 
adulation  amid  which  she  had  always  lived,  that  I 
could  not  predict  for  a  day  ahead  her  attitude  to- 
ward any  one.  She  had  never  shown  so  great  favor 
to  any  man  as  to  Brandon,  but  just  how  much  of 
her  condescension  was  a  mere  whim,  growing  out 
of  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  subject  to  reac- 
tion, I  could  not  tell.  I  believed,  however,  that 
Brandon  stood  upon  a  firmer  foundation  with  this 
changing,  shifting,  quicksand  of  a  girl  than  with 
either  of  their  majesties. 

In  fact,  I  thought  he  rested  upon  her  heart  itself. 
But  to  guess  correctly  what  a  girl  of  that  sort  will 
do,  or  think,  or  feel  would  require  inspiration. 

Of  course  most  of  the  entertainments  given  by 

(74) 


r 


j\n  Honor  and  an  f^nemy  75 

the  king  and  queen  included  as  guests  nearly  all  the 
court,  but  Mary  often  had  little  fetes  and  dancing 
parties  which  were  smaller,  more  select  and  infor- 
mal. These  parties  were  really  with  the  consent 
and  encouragement  of  the  king,  to  avoid  the  respon- 
sibility of  not  inviting  everybody.  The  larger 
affairs  were  very  dull  and  smaller  ones  might  give 
offense  to  those  who  were  left  out.  The  latter, 
therefore,  were  turned  over  to  Mary,  who  cared  very 
little  who  was  offended  or  who  was  not,  and  invita- 
tions to  them  were  highly  valued. 

One  afternoon,  a  day  or  two  after  Brandon's  pres- 
entation, a  message  arrived  from  Mary,  notifying 
me  that  she  would  have  a  little  fete  that  evening  in 
one  of  the  smaller  halls  and  directing  me  to  be  there 
as  Master  of  the  Dance.  Accompanying  the  mes- 
sage was  a  note  from  no  less  a  person  than  the 
princess  herself,  inviting  Brandon. 

This  was  an  honor  indeed — an  autograph  invita- 
tion from  the  hand  of  Mary !  But  the  masterful 
rascal  did  not  seem  to  consider  it  anything  unusual, 
and  when  I  handed  him  the  note  upon  his  return 
from  the  hunt,  he  simply  read  it  carelessly  over 
once,  tore  it  in  pieces  and  tossed  it  away.  I  believe 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham  would  have  given  ten 
thousand  crowns  to  receive  such  a  note,  and  would 
doubtless  have  shown  it  to  half  the  court  in  tri- 
umphant confidence  before  the  middle  of  the  night. 
To  this  great  Captain  of  th  *  guard  it  was  but  a 
scjap  of  paper.     He  was  glad  to  have  it  neverthe- 


76     XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flower 

less,  and,  with  all  his  self-restraint  and  stoicism, 
could  not  conceal  his  pleasure. 

Brandon  at  once  accepted  the  invitation  in  a  per- 
sonal note  to  the  princess.  The  boldness  of  this 
actually  took  my  breath,  and  it  seems  at  first  to  have 
startled  Mary  a  little,  also.  As  you  must  know  by 
this  time,  her  "dignity  royal"  was  subject  to  alarms, 
and  quite  her  most  troublesome  attribute — very  apt 
to  receive  damage  in  her  relations  with  Brandon. 

Mary  did  not  destroy  Brandon's  note,  despite  the 
fact  that  her  sense  of  dignity  had  been  disturbed 
by  it,  but  after  she  had  read  it  slipped  off  into  her 
private  room,  read  it  again  and  put  it  on  her 
escritoire.  Soon  she  picked  it  up,  reread  it,  and, 
after  a  little  hesitation,  put  it  in  her  pocket.  It 
remained  in  the  pocket  for  a  moment  or  two,  when 
out  it  came  for  another  perusal,  and  then  she  un- 
fastened her  bodice  and  put  it  in  her  bosom.  Mary 
had  been  so  intent  upon  what  she  was  doing  that 
she  had  not  seen  Jane,  who  was  sitting  quietly  in 
the  window,  and,  when  she  turned  and  saw  her,  she 
was  so  angry  she  snatched  the  note  from  her  bosom 
and  threw  it  upon  the  floor,  stamping  her  foot  in 
embarrassment  and  rage. 

"How  dare  you  watch  me,  hussy?"  she  cried. 
**You  lurk  around  as  still  as  the  grave,  and  I  have 
to  look  into  every  nook  and  corner,  wherever  I  go, 
or  have  you  spying  on  me." 

"I  did  not  spy  upon  you,  Lady  Mary,"  said  Jane 
quietly. 


A.fi  Honor  and  an  Enemy  77 

"Don't  answer  me ;  I  know  you  did.  I  want  you 
to  be  less  silent  after  this.  Do  you  hear?  Cough, 
or  sing,  or  stumble;  do  something,  anything,  that 
I  may  hear  you." 

Jane  rose,  picked  up  the  note  and  offered  it  to  her 
mistress,  who  snatched  it  with  one  hand,  while  she 
gave  her  a  sharp  slap  with  the  other.  Jane  ran  out, 
and  Mary,  full  of  anger  and  shame,  slammed  the 
door  and  locked  it.  The  note,  being  the  cause  of  all 
the  trouble,  she  impatiently  threw  to  the  floor  again, 
and  went  over  to  the  window  bench,  where  she 
threw  herself  down  to  pout.  In  the  course  of  five 
minutes  she  turned  her  head  for  one  fleeting  instant 
and  looked  at  the  note,  and  then,  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion, stole  over  to  where  she  had  thrown  it  and 
picked  it  up.  Going  back  to  the  light  at  the  window, 
she  held  it  in  her  hand  a  moment  and  then  read  it 
once,  twice,  thrice.  The  third  time  brought  the 
smile,  and  the  note  nestled  in  the  bosom  again. 

Jane  did  not  come  off  so  well,  for  her  mistress 
did  not  speak  to  her  until  she  called  her  in  that 
evening  to  make  her  toilet.  By  that  time  INIary  had 
forgotten  about  the  note  in  her  bosom ;  so  when 
Jane  began  to  array  her  for  the  dance,  it  fell  to  the 
floor,  whereupon  both  girls  broke  into  a  laugh,  and 
Jane  kissed  Mary's  bare  shoulder,  and  Mary  kissed 
the  top  of  Jane's  head,  and  they  were  friends 
again. 

So  Brandon  accepted  Mary's  invitation  and  went 
to  Mar>''s  dance,  but  his  going  made  for  him  aa 


78     XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flobaer 

enemy  of  the  most  powerful  nobleman  in  the  realm, 
and  this  was  the  way  of  it. 

These  parties  of  Mary's  had  been  ^oing  on  once 
or  twice  a  week  during  the  entire  winter  and  spring, 
and  usually  included  the  same  persons.  It  was  a 
sort  of  coterie,  whose  members  were  more  or  less 
congenial,  and  most  of  them  very  jealous  of  inter- 
lopers. Strange  as  it  may  seem,  uninvited  persons 
often  attempted  to  force  themselves  in,  and  all  sorts 
of  schemes  and  maneuvers  were  adopted  to  gain 
admission.  To  prevent  this,  two  guardsmen 
with  halberds  were  stationed  at  the  door.  Mod- 
esty, I  might  say,  neither  thrives  nor  is  useful  at 
court. 

When  Brandon  presented  himself  at  the  door  his 
entrance  was  barred,  but  he  quickly  pushed  aside  the 
halberds  and  entered.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
a  proud,  self-important  individual,  was  standing 
near  the  door  and  saw  it  all.  Now  Buckingham  was 
one  of  those  unfortunate  persons  who  never  lose  an 
opportunity  to  make  a  mistake,  and  being  anxious  to 
display  his  zeal  on  behalf  of  the  princess  stepped  up 
to  prevent  Brandon's  entrance. 

"Sir,  you  will  have  to  move  out  of  this,"  he  said 
pompously.  "You  are  not  at  a  jousting  bout.  You 
have  made  a  mistake  and  have  come  to  the  wrong 
place." 

"My  Lord  of  Buckingham  is  pleased  to  make 
rather  more  of  an  ass  of  himself  than  usual  this 
evening,"  replied  Brandon  with    a    smile,    as    he 


A^n  Honor  and  an  Enemy  79 

started  across  the  room  to  Mar}',  whose  eye  he  had 
caught.  She  had  seen  and  heard  it  all,  but  instead 
of  coming  to  his  relief  stood  there  laughing  to  her- 
self. At  this  Buckingham  grew  furious  and  ran 
around  ahead  of  Brandon,  valiantly  drawing  his 
sword. 

"Now,  by  heaven !  fellow,  make  but  another  step 
and  I  will  nm  you  through,"  he  said. 

I  saw  it  all,  but  could  hardly  realize  what  was 
going  on,  it  came  so  quickly  and  was  over  so  soon. 
Like  a  flash  Brandon's  sword  was  out  of  its  sheath, 
and  Buckingham's  blade  was  flying  toward  the  ceil- 
ing. Brandon's  sword  was  sheathed  again  so 
quickly  that  one  could  hardly  believe  it  had  been  out 
at  all,  and,  picking  up  Buckingham's,  he  said  with  a 
half-smothered  laugh : 

"My  lord  has  dropped  his  sword."  He  then  broke 
its  point  with  his  heel  against  the  hard  floor,  saying : 
"I  will  dull  the  point,  lest  my  lord,  being  unaccus- 
tomed to  its  use,  wound  himself."  This  brought 
peals  of  laughter  from  everybody,  including  the 
king.  Mary  laughed  also,  but,  as  Brandon  was 
handing  Buckingham  his  blade,  came  up  and  de- 
manded : 

"My  lord,  is  this  the  way  you  take  it  upon  your- 
self to  receive  my  guests?  Who  appointed  you,  let 
me  ask,  to  guard  my  door?  We  shall  have  to  omit 
your  name  from  our  next  list,  unless  you  take  a  few 
lessons  in  good  manners."  This  was  striking  him 
hard,  and  the  quality  of  the  man  will  at  once  appear 


8o     tOhen  Kjnighthood  Wa>s  in  Flobtter 

plain  to  you  when  I  say  that  he  had  often  recei^^red 
worse  treatment,  but  clung  to  the  girl's  skirts  all  the 
more  tenaciously.  Turning  to  Brandon  the  princess 
said: 

"Master  Brandon,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  and  re- 
gret exceedingly  that  our  friend  of  Buckingham 
should  so  thirst  for  your  blood."  She  then  led  him 
to  the  king  and  queen,  to  whom  he  made  his  bow, 
and  the  pair  continued  their  walk  about  the  room. 
Mary  again  alluded  to  the  skirmish  at  the  door,  and 
said  laughingly : 

"I  would  have  come  to  your  help,  but  I  knew  you 
were  amply  able  to  take  care  of  yourself.  I  was 
sure  you  would  worst  the  duke  in  some  way.  It  was 
better  than  a  mummery,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  it.  I 
do  not  like  him," 

The  king  did  not  open  these  private  balls,  as  he 
was  supposed,  at  least,  not  to  be  their  patron,  and 
the  queen,  who  was  considerably  older  than  Henry, 
was  averse  to  such  things.  So  the  princess  opened 
her  own  balls,  dancing  for  a  few  minutes  with  the 
floor  entirely  to  herself  and  partner.  It  was  the 
honor  of  the  evening  to  open  the  ball  with  her,  and 
quite  curious  to  see  how  men  put  themselves  in  her 
way  and  stood  so  as  to  be  easily  observed  and  per- 
chance chosen.  Brandon,  after  leaving  Mary,  had 
drifted  into  a  corner  of  the  room  back  of  a  group 
of  people,  and  was  talking  to  Wolsey — who  was 
always  very  friendly  to  him — and  to  Master  Caven- 
dish, a  quaint,  quiet,  easy  little  man,  full  of  learning 


An  Honor  and  an  Enemy  8i 

and  kindness,  and  a  warm  friend  to  the  Princess 
Mary. 

It  was  time  to  open  the  ball,  and,  from  my  place 
in  the  musicians'  gallery,  I  could  see  Mary  moving 
about  among  the  guests,  evidently  looking  for  a 
partner,  while  the  men  resorted  to  some  very  trans- 
parent and  amusing  expedients  to  attract  her  atten- 
tion. The  princess,  however,  took  none  of  the  bid- 
ders, and  soon,  I  noticed,  she  espied  Brandon  stand- 
ing in  the  corner  with  his  back  toward  her. 

Something  told  me  she  was  going  to  ask  him  to 
open  the  dance,  and  I  regretted  it,  because  I  knew 
it  would  set  every  nobleman  in  the  house  against 
him,  they  being  very  jealous  of  the  "low-born 
favorites,"  as  they  called  the  untitled  friends  of 
royalty.  Sure  enough,  I  was  right.  Mary  at  once 
began  to  make  her  way  over  to  the  corner,  and  I 
heard  her  say:  "Master  Brandon,  will  you  dance 
with  me  ?" 

It  was  done  prettily.  The  whole  girl  changed  as 
soon  as  she  found  herself  in  front  of  him.  In  place 
of  the  old-time  confidence,  strongly  tinged  with 
arrogance,  she  was  almost  shy,  and  blushed  and 
stammered  with  quick  coming  breath,  like  a  burgher 
maid  before  her  new-found  gallant.  At  once  the 
courtiers  made  way  for  her,  and  out  she  walked, 
leading  Brandon  by  the  hand.  Upon  her  lips  and  in 
her  eyes  was  a  rare  triumphant  smile,  as  if  to  say : 

"Look  at  this  handsome  new  trophy  of  my  bow 
and  spear." 


82     tifhen  K.nighihood  Woo-  in  Flobjer 

I  was  surprised  and  alarmed  when  Mary  chose 
Brandon,  but  when  I  turned  to  the  musicians  to 
direct  their  play,  imagine,  if  you  can,  my  surprise 
when  the  leader  said: 

"Master,  we  have  our  orders  for  the  first  dance 
from  the  princess." 

Imagine,  also,  if  you  can,  my  double  surprise  and 
alarm,  nay,  almost  my  terror,  when  the  band  struck 
up  Jane's  "Sailor  Lass."  I  saw  the  look  of  sur- 
prise and  inquiry  which  Brandon  gave  Mary,  stand- 
ing there  demurely  by  his  side,  when  he  first  heard 
the  music,  and  I  heard  her  nervous  little  laugh  as 
she  nodded  her  head,  "Yes,"  and  stepped  closer  to 
him  to  take  position  for  the  dance.  The  next  mo- 
ment she  was  in  Brandon's  arms,  flying  like  a  sylph 
about  the  room.  A  buzz  of  astonishment  and  de- 
light greeted  them  before  they  were  half  way 
around,  and  then  a  great  clapping  of  hands,  in 
which  the  king  himself  joined.  It  was  a  lovely 
sight,  although,  I  think,  a  graceful  woman  is  more 
beautiful  in  La  Galliard  than  any  other  dance,  or, 
in  fact,  any  other  situation  in  which  she  can  place 
herself. 

After  a  little  time  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Kent, 
first  lady  in  waiting  to  the  queen,  presented  herself 
at  the  musicians'  gallery  and  said  that  her  majesty 
had  ordered  the  music  stopped,  and  the  musicians, 
of  course,  ceased  playing  at  once.  Mary  thereupon 
turned  quickly  to  me : 


An  Honor  and  an  Enemy  83 

"Master,  are  our  musicians  w<;ary  that  they  stop 
before  we  are  through?" 

The  queen  answered  for  me  in  a  high-  Mced 
Spanish  accent:  "I  ordered  the  music  stopped;  I 
will  not  permit  such  an  indecent  exhibition  to  go  on 
longer." 

Fire  sprang  to  Mary's  eyes  and  she  exclaimed: 
"If  your  majesty  does  not  like  the  way  we  do  and 
dance  at  my  balls  you  can  retire  as  soon  as  you  see 
fit.  Your  face  is  a  kill-mirth  anyway."  It  never 
took  long  to  rouse  her  ladyship. 

The  queen  turned  to  Henry,  who  was  laughing, 
and  angrily  demanded : 

"Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  be  thus  insulted 
in  your  very  presence  ?" 

"You  got  yourself  into  it;  get  out  of  it  as  best 
you  can.  I  have  often  told  you  to  let  her  alone; 
she  has  sharp  claws."  The  king  was  really  tired  of 
Catherine's  sour  frown  before  he  married  her.  It 
was  her  dower  of  Spanish  gold  that  brought  her  a 
second  Tudor  husband. 

"Shall  I  not  have  what  music  and  dances  I  want 
at  my  own  balls?"  asked  the  princess. 

"That  you  shall,  sister  mine;  that  you  shall," 
answered  the  king.  "Go  on  master,  and  if  the  girl 
likes  to  dance  that  way,  in  God's  name  let  her  have 
her  wish.  It  will  never  hurt  her;  we  will  learn  it 
ourself,  and  will  wear  the  ladies  out  a-dancing." 

After  Mary  had  finished  the  opening  dance  there 
was  a  great  demand  for    instruction.     The    king 


84     XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Ftotauer 

asked  Brandon  to  teach  him  the  steps,  which  he  soon 
learned  to  perform  with  a  grace  perhaps  equaled  by 
no  living  creature  other  than  a  fat  brown  bear.  The 
ladies  were  at  first  a  little  shy  and  inclined  to  stand 
at  ar  I's  length,  but  Mary  had  set  the  fashion  and 
the  others  soon  followed.  I  had  taken  a  fiddler  to 
my  room  and  had  learned  the  dance  from  Brandon ; 
and  was  able  to  teach  it  also,  though  I  lacked  prac- 
tice to  make  my  step  perfect.  The  princess  had 
needed  no  practice,  but  had  danced  beautifully  from 
the  first,  her  strong  young  limbs  and  supple  body 
taking  as  naturally  to  anything  requiring  grace  of 
movement  as  a  cygnet  to  water. 

This,  thought  I,  is  my  opportunity  to  teach  Jane 
the  new  dance.  I  wanted  to  go  to  her  first,  but  was 
afraid,  or  for  some  reason  did  not,  and  took  several 
other  ladies  as  they  came.  After  I  had  shown  the 
step  to  them  I  sought  out  my  sweetheart.  Jane  was 
not  a  prude,  but  I  honestly  believe  she  was  the  most 
provoking  girl  that  ever  lived.  I  never  had  suc- 
ceeded in  holding  her  hand  even  the  smallest  part 
of  an  instant,  and  yet  I  was  sure  she  liked  me  very 
much;  almost  sure  she  loved  me.  She  feared  I 
might  unhinge  it  and  carry  it  away,  or  something 
of  that  sort,  I  suppose.  When  I  went  up  and 
asked  her  to  let  me  teach  her  the  new  dance,  she 
said: 

"I  thank  you,  Edwin;  but  there  are  others  who 
are  more  anxious  to  learn  than  I,  and  you  had  bet- 
ter teach  them  first." 


An  Honor  and  an  Enemy  85 

"But  I  want  to  teach  you.  When  I  wish  to  teach 
them  I  will  go  to  them." 

"You  did  go  to  several  others  before  you  thought 
of  coming  to  me,"  answered  Jane,  pretending  to  be 
piqued.  Now  that  was  the  unkindest  thing  I  ever 
knew  a  girl  to  do — refuse  me  what  she  knew  I  so 
wanted,  and  then  put  the  refusal  on  the  pretended 
ground  that  I  did  not  care  much  about  it.  I  so  told 
her,  and  she  saw  she  had  carried  things  too  far,  and 
that  I  was  growing  angry  in  earnest.  She  then  made 
another  false,  though  somewhat  flattering,  excuse: 

"I  could  not  bear  to  go  through  that  dance  before 
so  large  a  company.  I  should  not  object  so  much  if 
no  one  else  could  see — that  is,  with  you — Edwin." 
"Edwin !"  Oh !  so  soft  and  sweet !  The  little  jade ! 
to  think  that  she  could  hoodwink  me  so  easily,  and 
talk  me  into  a  good  humor  with  her  soft,  purring 
"Edwin."  I  saw  through  it  all  quickly  enough,  and 
left  her  without  another  word.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
went  into  an  adjoining  room  where  I  knew  she  was 
alone.  The  door  was  open  and  the  music  could  be 
heard  there,  so  I  followed. 

"My  lady,  there  is  no  one  to  see  us  here;  I  can 
teach  you  now,  if  you  wish,"  said  I. 

She  saw  she  was  cornered,  and  replied,  with  a  toss 
of  her  saucy  little  head :  "But  what  if  I  do  not 
wish?" 

Now  this  was  more  than  I  could  endure  with  pa- 
tience, so  I  answered:  "My  young  lady,  you  shall 
ask  me  before  I  teach  you." 


86     "When  Kjnighlhood  Wa^  in  Flobifer 

"There  are  others  who  can  dance  it  much  better 
than  you/'  she  returned,  without  looking  at  me. 

"If  you  allow  another  to  teach  you  that  dance,"  I 
responded,  "you  will  have  seen  the  last  of  me."  She 
had  made  me  angry,  and  I  did  not  speak  to  her  for 
more  than  a  week.  When  I  did — but  I  will  tell  you 
of  that  later  on.  There  was  one  thing  about  Jane 
and  the  new  step :  so  long  as  she  did  not  know  it, 
she  would  not  dance  it  with  any  other  man,  and  fool- 
ish as  my  feeling  may  have  been,  I  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  her  doing  it.  I  resolved  that  if  she 
permitted  another  man  to  teach  her  that  dance  it 
should  be  all  over  between  us.  It  was  a  terrible 
thought  to  me,  that  of  losing  Jane,  and  it  came  like 
a  very  stroke  upon  my  heart.  I  would  think  of  her 
sweet  little  form,  so  compact  and  graceful ;  of  her 
gray,  calm  eyes,  so  full  of  purity  and  mischief ;  of 
her  fair  oval  face,  almost  pale,  and  wonder  if  I 
could  live  without  the  hope  of  her.  I  determined, 
however,  that  if  she  learned  the  new  dance  with 
any  other  man  I  would  throw  that  hope  to  the 
winds,  whether  I  lived  or  died.  St.  George !  I  be- 
lieve I  should  have  died. 

The  evening  was  devoted  to  learning  the  new 
dance,  and  I  saw  Mary  busily  engaged  imparting 
information  among  the  ladies.  As  we  were  about  to 
disperse  I  heard  her  say  to  Brandon : 

"You  have  greatly  pleased  the  king  by  bringing 
him  a  new  amusement.  He  asked  me  where  I 
learned  it,  and  I  told  him  you  had  taught  it  to  Cas- 


1 


A^n  Honor  and  an  Enemy  87 

koden,  and  that  I  had  it  from  him.  I  told  Caskoden 
so  that  he  can  tell  the  same  story." 

"Oh !  but  that  is  not  true.  Don't  you  think  you 
should  have  told  him  the  truth,  or  have  evaded  it  in 
some  way  ?"  asked  Brandon,  who  was  really  a  great 
lover  of  the  truthj  "when  possible,"  but  who,  I  fear 
on  this  occasion,  wished  to  appear  more  truthful 
than  he  really  was.  If  a  man  is  to  a  woman's  taste, 
and  she  is  inclined  to  him,  he  lays  up  great  stores 
in  her  heart  by  making  her  think  him  good;  and 
shameful  impositions  are  often  practiced  to  this  end. 

Mary  flushed  a  little  and  answered,  "I  can't  help 
it.  You  do  not  know.  Had  I  told  Henry  that  we 
four  had  enjoyed  such  a  famous  time  in  my  rooms 
he  would  have  been  very  angry,  and — and — ^you 
might  have  been  the  sufferer." 

"But  might  you  not  have  compromised  matters  by 
going  around  the  truth  some  way^  and  leaving  the 
impression  that  others  were  of  the  party  that  even- 
ing?" 

That  was  a  mistake,  for  it  gave  Mary  an  oppor- 
tunity to  retaliate:  "The  best  way  to  go  around 
the  truth,  as  you  call  it,  is  by  a  direct  lie.  My  lie 
was  no  worse  than  yours.  But  I  did  not  stop  to 
argue  about  such  matters.  There  is  something  else 
I  wished  to  say.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  you  liave 
greatly  pleased  the  king  with  the  new  dance.  Now 
teach  him  "honor  and  ruff"  and  your  fortune  is 
made.  He  has  had  some  Jews  and  Lombards  in  of 
late  to  teach  him  new  games  at  cards,  but  yours  is 


88     "When  Kjxi^hihood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

worth  all  of  them."  Then,  somewhat  hastily  and 
irrelevantly,  "I  did  not  dance  the  new  dance  with 
any  other  gentleman — ^but  I  suppose  you  did  not 
notice  it,"  and  she  was  gone  before  he  could  thank 
her. 


CHA.TTEK,  VI 

A  7<,are  'Ride  1o  Windsor 

THE  princess  knew  her  royal  brother.  A  man 
would  receive  quicker  reward  for  inventing  an 
amusement  or  a  gaudy  costume  for  the  king 
than  by  winning  him  a  battle.  Later  in  life  tlie 
high  road  to  his  favor  was  in  ridding  him  of  his 
wife  and  helping  him  to  a  new  one — a  dangerous 
way  though,  as  Wolsey  found  to  his  sorrow  when 
he  sank  his  glory  in  poor  Anne  Boleyn. 

Brandon  took  the  hint  and  managed  to  let  it  be 
known  to  his  play-loving  king  that  he  knew  the 
latest  French  games.  The  French  Due  de  Longue* 
ville  had  for  some  time  been  an  honored  prisoner  at 
the  English  court,  held  as  a  hostage  from  Louis 
XII,  but  de  Longueville  was  a  blockhead,  who 
could  not  keep  his  little  black  eyes  oflF  our  fair  ladies, 
who  hated  him,  long  enough  to  tell  the  deuce  of 
spades  from  the  ace  of  hearts.  So  Brandon  was 
taken  from  his  duties,  such  as  they  were,  and  placed 
at  the  card  table.  This  was  fortunate  at  first ;  for 
being  the  best  player  the  king  always  chose  him  as 
his  partner,  and,  as  in  every  other  game,  the  king 
always  won.  If  he  lost  there  would  soon  be  no 
game,  and  the  man  who  won  from  him  too  fre- 
quently was  in  danger  at  any  moment  of  being  rated 
guilty  of  the  verv  highest  sort  of  treason.    I  think 

(89) 


90     XVhen  Kjni^hthood  Wcis  in  Floboer 

many  a  man's  fall,  under  Henry  VIII,  was  owing  to 
the  fact  that  he  did  not  always  allow  the  king  to 
win  in  some  trivial  matter  of  game  or  joust.  Under 
these  conditions  everybody  was  anxious  to  be  the 
king's  partner.  It  is  true  he  frequently  forgot  to 
divide  his  winnings,  but  his  partner  had  this  advan- 
tage, at  least :  there  was  no  danger  of  losing.  That 
being  the  case,  Brandon's  seat  opposite  the  king 
was  very  likely  to  excite  envy,  and  the  time  soon 
came,  Henry  having  learned  the  play,  when  Bran- 
don had  to  face  someone  else,  and  the  seat  was  too 
costly  for  a  man  without  a  treasury.  It  took  but  a 
few  days  to  put  Brandon  hors  de  combat,  financially, 
and  he  would  have  been  in  a  bad  plight  had  not  Wol- 
sey  come  to  his  relief.  After  that,  he  played  and 
paid  the  king  in  his  own  coin. 

This  great  game  of  "honor  and  ruff"  occupied 
Henry's  mind  day  and  night  during  a  fortnight.  He 
feasted  upon  it  to  satiety,  as  he  did  with  everything 
else ;  never  having  learned  not  to  cloy  his  appetite 
by  over-feeding.  So  we  saw  little  of  Brandon  while 
the  king's  fever  lasted,  and  Mary  said  she  wished 
she  had  remained  silent  about  the  cards.  You  see, 
she  could  enjoy  this  new  plaything  as  well  as  her 
brother;  but  the  king,  of  course,  must  be  satisfied 
first.  They  both  had  enough  eventually ;  Henry  in 
one  way,  Mary  in  another. 

One  day  the  fancy  struck  the  king  that  he  would 
rebuild  a  certain  chapel  at  Windsor;  so  he  took  a 
number  of  the  court,  including  Mary,  Jane,  Brandon 


A  'Rare  'Ride  to  Wind^tor  91 

and  myself,  and  went  with  us  up  to  London,  where 
we  lodged  over  night  at  Bridewell  House.  The 
next  morning — as  bright  and  beautiful  a  June  day 
as  ever  gladdened  the  heart  of  a  rose — we  took 
horse  for  Windsor;  a  delightful  seven-league  rid^ 
over  a  fair  road. 

Mary  and  Jane  traveled  side  by  side,  with  an  oc- 
casional companion  or  two,  as  the  road  permitted. 
I  was  angry  with  Jane,  as  you  know,  so  did  not  go 
near  the  girls ;  and  Brandon,  without  any  apparent 
intention  one  way  or  the  other,  allowed  events 
to  adjust  themselves,  and  rode  w'ith  Cavendish 
and  me. 

We  were  perhaps  forty  yards  behind  the  girls, 
and  I  noticed  after  a  time  that  the  Lady  Mary  kept 
looking  backward  in  our  directior^,  as  if  fearing  rain 
from  the  east.  I  was  in  hopes  that  Jane,  too,  would 
fear  the  rain,  but  you  would  have  sworn  her  neck 
was  stiff,  so  straight  ahead  did  she  keep  her  face. 
We  had  ridden  perhaps  three  leagues,  when  the 
princess  stopped  her  horse  and  turned  in  her  saddle. 
I  heard  her  voice,  but  did  not  understand  what  she 
said. 

In  a  moment  some  one  called  out :  "Master  Bran- 
don is  wanted."  So  that  gentleman  rode  forward, 
and  I  followed  him.  When  we  came  up  with  the 
girls,  Mary  said :    "I  fear  my  girth  is  loose." 

Brandon  at  once  dismounted  to  tighten  it,  and  the 
others  of  our  immediate  party  began  to  cluster 
around. 


92     to  hen  Knighthood  Wa-f  in  Ftobuer 

Brandon  tried  the  girth. 

"My  lady,  it  is  as  tight  as  the  horse  can  well 
bear,"  he  said. 

"It  is  loose,  I  say,"  insisted  the  princess,  with  a 
little  irritation;  "the  saddle  feels  like  it.  Try  the 
other."  Then  turning  impatiently  to  the  persons 
gathered  around:  "Does  it  require  all  of  you, 
standing  there  like  gaping  bumpkins,  to  tighten  my 
girth?  Ride  on;  we  can  manage  this  without  so, 
much  help."  Upon  this  broad  hint  everybody  rode 
ahead  while  I  held  the  horse  for  Brandon,  who  went 
on  with  his  search  for  the  loose  girth.  While  he 
was  looking  for  it  Mary  leaned  over  her  horse's 
neck  and  asked :  "Were  you  and  Cavendish  settling 
all  the  philosophical  points  now  in  dispute,  that  you 
found  him  so  interesting?" 

"Not  all,"  answered  Brandon,  smiling. 

"You  were  so  absorbed,  I  supposed  it  could 
be  nothing^  short  of  that. " 

"No,"  replied  Brandon  again.  "But  the  girth 
b  not  loose." 

"Perhaps  I  •nly  imagined  it,"  returned  Mary 
1  carelessly,  having  lo^  interest  in  the  girth. 
(  I  looked  toward  Jane,  whose  eyes  were  bright 
with  a  smile,  and  turned  Brandon's  horse  over  to 
him.  Jane's  smile  gradually  broadened  into  a  laugh, 
and  she  said:  "Edwin,  I  fear  my  girth  is  loose 
also." 

"As  the  Lady  Mary's  was?"  asked  I,  unable  to 
keep  a  straight  face  any  longer. 


A  T^are  Hide  to  WindUor  93 

**Yes,"  answered  Jane,  with  a  vigorous  little  nod 
of  her  head,  and  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"Then  drop  back  with  me,"  I  responded. 

The  princess  looked  at  us  with  a  half  smile,  half 
frown,  and  remarked:  "Now  you  doubtless  con- 
sider yourselves  very  brilliant  and  witty." 

"Yes,"  returned  Jane  maliciously,  nodding  her 
head  in  emphatic  assent,  as  the  princess  and  Bran- 
don rode  on  before  us. 

"I  hope  she  is  satisfied  now,"  said  Jane  sotto  voce 
to  me. 

"So  you  want  me  to  ride  with  you  ?"  I  replied. 

"Yes,"  nodded  Jane. 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Because  I  want  you  to,"  was  the  enlightening 
response. 

"Then  why  did  you  not  dance  with  me  the  other 
evening?" 

"Because  I  did  not  want  to." 

"Short  but  comprehensive,"  thought  I,  "but  a 
sufficient  reason  for  a  maiden." 

I  said  nothing,  however,  and  after  a  time  Jane 
spoke :  "The  dance  was  one  thing  and  riding  with 
you  is  another.  I  did  not  wish  to  dance  with  you, 
but  I  do  wish  to  ride  with  you.  You  are  the  only 
gentleman  to  whom  I  would  have  said  what  I  did 
about  my  girth  being  loose.  As  to  the  new  dance, 
I  do  not  care  to  learn  it  because  I  would  not  dance  it 
with  any  man  but  you,  and  not  even  with  you — yet." 
This  made  me  glad,  and  coming  from  coy,  modest 


94     te^hen  Kjiighihood  Wa>s  in  Plotuer 

Jane  meant  a  great  deal.  It  meant  that  she  cared 
for  me,  and  would,  some  day,  be  mine ;  but  it  also 
meant  that  she  would  take  her  own  time  and  her 
own  sweet  way  in  being  won.  This  was  comfort- 
ing, if  not  satisfying,  and  loosened  my  tongue: 
"Jane,  you  know  my  heart  is  full  of  love  for 
you—" 

"Will  the  universe  crumble?"  she  cried  with  the 
most  provoking  little  laugh.  Now  that  sentence  was 
my  rock  ahead,  whenever  I  tried  to  g^ve  Jane  some 
idea  of  the  state  of  my  affections.  It  was  a  part  of 
the  speech  which  I  had  prepared  and  delivered  to 
Mary  in  Jane's  hearing,  as  you  already  know.  I  had 
said  to  the  princess:  "The  universe  will  crumble 
and  the  heavens  roll  up  as  a  scroll  ere  my  love  shall 
alter  or  pale."  It  was  a  high-sounding  sentence,  but 
it  was  not  true,  as  I  was  forced  to  admit,  almost 
with  the  same  breath  that  spoke  it.  Jane  had  heard 
it,  and  had  stored  it  away  in  that  memory  of  hers, 
so  tenacious  in  holding  to  everything  it  should  for- 
get. It  is  wonderful  what  a  fund  of  useless  infor- 
mation some  persons  accumulate  and  cling  to  With  a 
persistent  determination  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 
I  thought  Jane  never  would  forget  that  unfortunate, 
abominable  sentence  spoken  so  grandiloquently  to 
Mary.  I  wonder  what  she  would  have  thought  had 
she  known  that  I  had  said  substantially  the  same, 
thing  to  a  dozen  others.  I  never  should  have  won 
her  in  that  case.  She  does  not  know  it  yet,  and 
never  shall  if  I  can  prevent.    Although  dear  Jane  is 


A  Ttare  'Ride  to  Windsor  95 

old  now,  and  the  roses  on  her  cheeks  have  long  since 
paled,  her  gray  eyes  are  still  there,  with  their  mis- 
chievous little  twinkle  upon  occasion,  and — in  fact, 
Jane  can  be  as  provoking  as  ever  when  she  takes 
the  fancv,  for  she  is  as  sure  of  mv  affection  now 
as  upon  the  morning  of  that  rare  ride  to  Windsor. 
Aye,  surer,  since  she  knows  that  in  all  these  years 
it  has  changed  only  to  grow  greater  and  stronger 
and  truer  in  the  fructifying  light  of  her  sweet  face, 
and  the  nurturing  warmth  of  her  pure  soul.  What 
a  blessed  thing  it  is  for  a  man  to  love  his  wife  and 
be  satisfied  with  her,  and  to  think  her  the  fairest 
being  in  all  the  world ;  and  how  thrice  happy  is 
he  who  can  stretch  out  the  sweetest  season  of  his 
existence,  the  days  of  triumphant  courtship,  through 
the  flying  years  of  all  his  life,  and  then  lie  down  to 
die  in  the  quieted  ecstasy  of  a  first  love. 

So  Jane  halted  my  effort  to  pour  out  my  heart,  as 
she  always  did. 

''There  is  something  that  greatly  troubles  me," 
she  said. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  in  some  concern. 

"My  mistress,"  she  answered,  nodding  in  the 
direction  of  the  two  riding  ahead  of  us.  "I  never 
saw  her  so  much  interested  in  any  one  as  she  is  in 
vour  friend,  Master  Brandon.  Not  that  she  is 
really  in  love  with  him  as  yet  perhaps,  but  I  fear 
it  is  coming  and  I  dread  to  see  it.  She  has  never 
been  compelled  to  forego  anything  she  wanted,  and 
her  desires  are  absolutely  imperative.     They  drive 


96     "When  Knighthood  Was  in  JTlobuer 

her,  and  she  is  helpless  against  them.  She  would 
not  and  could  not  make  the  smallest  effort  to  over- 
come them,  I  think  it  never  occurred  to  her  that 
such  a  thing  could  be  necessary;  everything  she 
wants  she  naturally  thinks  is  hers  by  divine  right. 
There  has  been  no  great  need  of  such  an  effort  until 
now,  but  your  friend  Brandon  presents  it.  I  wish 
he  were  at  the  other  side  of  the  world.  I  think  she 
feels  that  she  ought  to  keep  away  from  him  before 
it  is  too  late,  both  for  his  sake  and  her  own,  but 
she  is  powerless  to  deny  herself  the  pleasure  of 
being  with  him,  and  I  do  not  know  what  is  to  come 
of  it  all.  That  incident  of  the  loose  girth  is  an 
illustration.  Did  you  ever  know  anything  so  bold 
and  transparent?  Any  one  could  see  through  it, 
and  the  worst  of  all  is  she  seems  not  to  care  if  every 
one  does  see.  Now  look  at  them  ahead  of  us !  No 
girl  is  so  happy  riding  beside  a  man  unless  she  is 
interested  in  him.  She  was  dull  enough  until  he 
joined  her.  He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  come,  so  she 
resorted  to  the  flimsy  excuse  of  the  loose  girth  to 
bring  him.  I  am  surprised  that  she  even  sought 
the  shadow  of  an  excuse,  but  did  not  order  him  for- 
ward without  any  pretense  of  one.  Oh !  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  It  troubles  me  greatly.  Do  you 
know  the  state  of  his  feelings?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "but  I  think  he  is  heart-whole, 
or  nearly  so.  He  told  me  he  was  not  fool  enough 
to  fall  in  love  with  the  king's  sister,  and  I  really 
believe  he  will  keep  his  heart  and  head,  even  at  that 


A  Tiare  Hide  to  WincUor  97 

dizzy  height.  He  is  a  cool  fellow,  if  there  ever 
was  one." 

"He  certainly  is  different  from  other  men/'  re- 
turned Jane.  "I  think  he  has  never  spoken  a  word 
of  love  to  her.  He  has  said  some  pretty  things, 
which  she  has  repeated  to  me;  has  moralized  to 
some  extent,  and  has  actually  told  her  of  some  of 
her  faults.  I  should  like  to  see  anyone  else  take 
that  liberty.  She  seems  to  like  it  from  him,  and 
says  he  inspires  her  with  higher,  better  motives  and 
a  yearning  to  be  good ;  but  I  am  sure  he  has  made 
no  love  to  her." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  he  did.  It  might 
cure  her,"  I  replied. 

"Oh!  no!  no!  not  now;  at  first,  perhaps,  but  not 
now.  What  I  fear  is  that  if  he  remains  silent  much 
longer  she  will  take  matters  in  hand  and  speak  her- 
self. I  don't  like  to  say  that — it  doesn't  sound  well — 
but  she  is  a  princess,  and  it  would  be  different  with 
her  from  what  it  would  be  with  an  ordinary  girl; 
she  might  have  to  speak  first,  or  there  might  be  no 
speaking  from  one  who  thought  his  position  too  far 
beneath  hers.  She  whose  smallest  desires  drive  her 
so,  will  never  forego  so  great  a  thing  as  the  man 
she  loves  only  for  the  want  of  a  word  or  two." 

Then  it  was  that  Jane  told  me  of  the  scene  with 
the  note,  of  the  little  whispered  confidence  upon 
their  prillows,  and  a  hundred  other  straws  that 
showed  only  too  plainly  which  way  this  worst  of 
ill  winds  was  blowing — with  no  good  in  it  for  any 


^     XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flower 

cne.  Now  who  could  have  foretold  this?  It  was 
tasy  enough  to  prophesy  that  Brandon  %vould  learn 
to  love  Mary,  excite  a  passing  interest,  and  come 
off  crestfallen,  as  all  other  men  had  done.  But  that 
Mary  should  love  Brandon,  and  he  remain  heart- 
whole,  was  an  unlooked-for  event — one  that  would 
hardly  have  been  predicted  by  the  shrewdest 
prophet. 

What  Lady  Jane  said  troubled  me  greatly,  as  it 
was  but  the  confirmation  of  my  own  fears.  Her 
opportunity  to  know  was  far  better  than  mine,  but 
I  had  seen  enough  to  set  me  thinking. 

Brandon,  I  believe,  saw  nothing  of  Mary's  grow- 
ing partiality  at  all.  He  could  not  help  but  find  her 
wonderfully  attractive  and  interesting,  and  per- 
haps it  needed  only  the  thought  that  she  might  love 
him,  to  kindle  a  flame  in  his  own  breast.  But  at 
the  time  of  our  ride  to  Windsor,  Charles  Brandon 
was  not  in  love  with  Mary  Tudor,  however  near  it 
he  may  unconsciously  have  been.  He  would  whistle 
and  sing,  and  was  as  light-hearted  as  a  lark — I  mean 
when  away  from  the  princess  as  well  as  with  her — 
a  mood  that  does  not  go  with  a  heart  full  of  heavy 
love,  of  impossible,  fatal  love,  such  as  his  would 
have  been  for  the  first  princess  of  the  first  blood 
royal  of  the  world. 

But  another's  trouble  could  not  dim  the  sunlight 
in  my  own  heart,  and  that  ride  to  Windsor  was  the 
happiest  day  of  my  life  up  to  that  time.  Even  Jane 
threw  off  the  little    cloud    our    forebodings    had 


A  'Rare  Tiide  to  Windsor  99 

gathered,  and  chatted  and  laughed  like  the  creature 
of  joy  and  gladness  she  was.  Now  and  then  her 
heart  would  well  up  so  full  of  the  sunlight  and  the 
flowers,  and  the  birds  in  the  hedge,  aye,  and  of  the 
contagious  love  in  my  heart,  too,  that  it  poured 
itself  forth  in  a  spontaneous  little  song  which  thrills 
me  even  now. 

Ahead  of  us  were  the  princess  and  Brandon. 
Every  now  and  then  her  voice  came  back  to  us  in  a 
stave  of  a  song,  and  her  laughter,  rich  and  low, 
wafted  on  the  wings  of  the  soft  south  wind,  made 
the  glad  birds  hush  to  catch  its  silvery  note.  It 
seemed  that  the  wild  flowers  had  taken  on  their 
brightest  hue,  the  trees  their  richest  Sabbath-day 
green,  and  the  sun  his  softest  radiance,  only  to  glad- 
den the  heart  of  IMary  that  they  might  hear  her 
laugh.  The  laugh  would  have  come  quite  as  joy- 
ously had  the  flowers  been  dead  and  the  sun  black, 
for  flowers  and  sunlight,  south  wind,  green  pas- 
tures and  verdant  hills,  all  were  riding  by  her  side. 
Poor  Mary !  Her  days  of  laughter  were  num- 
bered. 

We  all  rode  merrily  on  to  Windsor,  and  when  we 
arrived  it  was  curious  to  see  the  great  nobles,  Buck- 
ingham, both  the  Howards,  Seymour  and  a  dozen 
others  stand  back  for  plain  Charles  Brandon  to  dis- 
mount the  fairest  maiden  and  the  most  renowned 
princess  in  Christendom.  It  was  done  most  grace- 
fully. She  was  but  a  trifle  to  his  strong  arms,  and 
he  lifted  her  to  the  sod  as  gently  as  if  she  wer«»  4 


100    XOhen  Kjnighihqod  Wa^s  in  Flower 

child.  The  nobles  envied  Brandon  his  evident  favor 
with  this  unattainable  Mary  and  hated  him  accord- 
ingly, but  they  kept  their  thoughts  to  themselves  for 
two  reasons:  First,  they  knew  not  to  what  degree 
the  king's  favor,  already  marked,  with  the  help  of 
the  princess  might  carry  him ;  and  second,  they  did 
not  care  to  have  a  misunderstanding  with  the  man 
who  had  cut  out  Adam  Judson's  eyes. 

We  remained  at  Windsor  four  or  five  days,  dur- 
ing which  time  the  king  made  several  knights. 
Brandon  would  probably  have  been  one  of  them,  as 
everybody  expected,  had  not  Buckingham  related 
to  Henry  the  episode  of  the  loose  girth,  and  adroitly 
poisoned  his  mind  as  to  Mary's  partiality.  At  this 
the  king  began  to  cast  a  jealous  eye  on  Brandon. 
His  sister  was  his  chief  diplomatic  resource,  and 
when  she  loved  or  married,  it  should  be  for  Henry's 
benefit,  regardless  of  all  else. 

Brandon  and  the  Lady  Mary  saw  a  great  deal 
of  each  other  during  this  little  stay  at  Windsor,  as 
she  always  had  some  plan  to  bring  about  a  meet- 
ing, and  although  very  delightful  to  him,  it  cost 
him  much  in  royal  favor.  He  could  not  trace  this 
eflfect  to  its  proper  cause  and  it  troubled  him.  I 
could  have  told  him  the  reason  in  two  words,  but 
I  feared  to  put  into  his  mind  the  thought  that  the 
princess  might  learn  to  love  him.  As  to  the  king, 
he  would  not  have  cared  if  Brandon  or  every  other 
man,  for  that  matter,  should  go  stark  mad  for  love 
of  his  sister,  but  when  she  bes^an  to  show  a  prefer- 


A  Ttare  'Ride  to  Windsor  loi 

ence  he  grew  interested,  and  it  was  apt  sooner  or 
later  to  go  hard  with  the  fortunate  one.  When  we 
went  back  to  Greenwich  Brandon  was  sent  on  a  day 
ahead. 


CHATTEL  VJI 

Lake's  Fierce  Stveetne^^ 

AFTER  we  had  all  returned  to  Greenwich  the 
princess  and  Brandon  were  together  fre- 
quently. Upon  several  occasions  he  was  in- 
vited, with  others,  to  her  parlor  for  card  playing. 
But  we  spent  two  evenings,  with  only  four  of  us 
present,  prior  to  the  disastrous  events  which 
changed  everything,  and  of  which  I  am  soon  to  tell 
you.  During  these  two  evenings  the  "Sailor  Lass" 
was  in  constant  demand. 

This  pair,  who  should  have  remained  apart,  met 
constantly  in  and  about  the  palace,  and  every  glance 
added  fuel  to  the  flame.  Part  of  the  time  it  was  the 
princess  with  her  troublesome  dignity,  and  part  of 
the  time  it  way  Mary — simply  girl.  Notwithstand- 
ing these  haughty  moods,  anyone  with  half  an  eye 
could  see  that  the  princess  was  gradually  succumb- 
ing to  the  budding  woman ;  that  Brandon's  stronger 
nature  had  dominated  her  with  that  half  fear  which 
every  woman  feels  who  loves  a  strong  man — ■ 
stronger  than  herself. 

One  day  the  rumor  spread  through  the  court  that 

the  old  French  king,  Louis  XII,  whose  wife,  Anne 

of  Brittany,  had  just  died,  had  asked  Mary's  hand 

in  marriage.     It  was  this,  probably,  which  opened 

Brandon's  eyes  to  the  fact  that  he  had  been  play- 

(102) 


I 


LtO'Ve*'S  Pierce  Sttfeelne-rs  103 

ing  with  the  very  worst  sort  of  fire ;  and  first  made 
him  see  that  in  spite  of  himself,  and  almost  with- 
out his  knowledge,  the  girl  had  grown  wonderfully 
sweet  and  dear  to  him.  He  now  saw  his  danger, 
and  struggled  to  keep  himself  beyond  the  spell  of 
her  perilous  glances  and  siren  song.  This  modern 
Ulysses  made  a  masterful  effort,  but  alas !  had  no 
ships  to  carry  him  away,  and  no  wax  with  which  to 
fill  his  ears.  Wax  is  a  good  thing,  and  no  one 
should  enter  the  Siren  country  without  it.  Ships, 
too,  are  good,  with  masts  to  tie  one's  self  to,  and 
sails  and  rudder,  and  a  gust  of  wind  to  waft  one 
quickly  past  the  island.  In  fact,  one  cannot  take  too 
many  precautions  when  in  those  enchanted  waters. 

Matters  began  to  look  dark  to  me.  Love  had 
dawned  in  Mary's  breast,  that  was  sure,  and  for 
the  first  time,  with  all  its  fierce  sweetness.  Not  that 
it  had  reached  its  noon,  or  anything  like  it.  In 
truth,  it  might,  I  hoped,  die  in  the  dawning,  for  my 
lady  was  as  capricious  as  a  Tvlay  day;  but  it  was 
love — love  as  plain  as  the  sun  at  rising.  She  sought 
Brandon  upon  all  occasions,  and  made  opportunities 
to  meet  him;  not  openly — at  any  rate,  not  with 
Brandon's  knowledge,  nor  with  any  connivance  on 
his  part,  but  apparently  caring  little  what  he  or  any 
one  else  might  see.  Love  lying  in  her  heart  had 
made  her  a  little  more  shy  than  formerly  in  seek- 
ing him,  but  her  straightforward  way  of  taking 
whatever  she  wanted  made  her  transparent  little 
attempts  at  concealment  very  pathetic. 


104    to  hen  Kjntghlhood  Woj"  in  Flower 

As  for  Brandon,  the  shaft  had  entered  his  heart, 
too,  poor  fellow,  as  surely  as  love  had  dawned  in 
Mary's,  but  there  was  this  difference:  With  our 
princess — at  least  I  so  thought  at  the  time — the  sun 
of  love  might  dawn  and  lift  itself  to  mid-heaven  and 
,  glow  with  the  fervent  ardor  of  high  noon — for  her 
blood  was  warm  with  the  spark  of  her  grandfather's 
fire — and  then  sink  into  the  west  and  make  room  for 
another  sun  to-morrow.  But  with  Brandon's 
stronger  nature  the  sun  would  go  till  noon  and  there 
would  burn  for  life.  The  sun,  however,  had  not 
reached  its  noon  with  Brandon,  either;  since  he 
had  set  his  brain  against  his  heart,  and  had  done 
what  ne  could  to  stay  the  all-consuming  orb  at  its 
dawning.  He  knew  the  hopeless  misery  such  a 
passion  would  bring  him,  and  helped  the  good  Lord, 
in  so  far  as  he  could,  to  answer  his  prayer,  and  lead 
him  not  into  temptation.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the 
truth,  he  avoided  Mary  as  much  as  possible. 

As  I  said,  we  had  spent  several  evenings  with 
Mary  after  we  came  home  from  Windsor,  at  all  of 
which  her  preference  was  shown  in  every  move- 
ment. Some  women  are  so  expressive  under  strong 
emotion  that  every  gesture,  a  turn  of  the  head,  a 
glance  of  the  eyes,  the  lifting  of  a  hand  or  the  poise 
of  the  body,  speaks  with  a  tongue  of  eloquence,  and 
such  was  Mary.  Her  eyes  would  glow  with  a  soft 
fire  when  they  rested  upon  him,  and  her  whole  per- 
son told  all  too  plainly  what,  in  truth,  it  seemed  she 
did  not  care  to  hide.    When  others  were  present  she 


Lo-Ve*^  Fierce  Stueetne'S't  105 

would  restrain  herself  somewhat,  but  with  only 
Jane  and  myself,  she  could  hardly  maintain  a  seemly 
reserve.  During  all  this  time  Brandon  remained 
cool  and  really  seemed  unconscious  of  his  wonderful 
attraction  for  her.  It  is  hard  to  understand  why  he 
did  not  see  it,  but  I  really  believe  he  did  not.  Al- 
though he  was  quite  at  ease  in  her  presence,  too 
much  so,  Mary  sometimes  thought,  and  strangely 
enough  sometimes  told  him  in  a  fit  of  short-lived, 
quickly  repented  anger  that  always  set  him  laugh- 
ing, yet  there  was  never  a  word  or  gesture  that 
could  hint  of  undue  familiarity.  It  would  probably 
have  met  a  rebuff  from  the  princess  part  of  her; 
for  what  a  perversity,  both  royal  and  feminine,  she 
wanted  all  the  freedom  for  herself.  In  short,  like 
any  other  woman,  she  would  rather  love  than  be 
loved,  that  is,  until  surrender  day  should  come; 
then  of  course.    .    .    . 

After  these  last  two  meetings,  although  the  invi- 
tations came  frequently,  none  was  accepted.  Bran- 
don had  contrived  to  have  his  duties,  ostensibly  at 
least,  occupy  his  evenings,  and  did  honestly  what 
his  judgment  told  him  was  the  one  thing  to  do ;  that 
is,  remain  away  from  a  fire  that  could  give  no  genial 
varmth,  but  was  sure  to  burn  him  to  the  quick.  I 
saw  this  only  too  plainly,  but  never  a  word  of  it  was 
spoken  between  us. 

The  more  I  saw  of  this  man,  the  more  I  respected 
him,  and  this  curbing  of  his  affections  added  to  my 
already  high  esteem.    The  effort  was  doubly  wise 


io6   XOhen  Kjitghthood  Waj*  in  Flower 

in  Brandon's  case.  Should  love  with  his  intense 
nature  reach  its  height,  his  recklessness  would  in 
turn  assert  itself,  and  these  two  would  inevitably 
try  to  span  the  impassable  gulf  between  them,  when 
Brandon,  at  least,  would  go  down  in  the  attempt. 
His  trouble,  however,  did  not  make  a  mope  of  him, 
and  he  retained  a  great  deal  of  his  brightness  and 
sparkle  undimmed  by  what  must  have  been  an  ache 
in  his  heart.  Though  he  tried,  without  making  it 
too  marked,  to  see  as  little  of  Mary  as  possible,  their 
meeting  once  in  a  while  could  not  be  avoided,  espe- 
cially when  one  of  them  was  always  seeking  to 
bring  it  about.  After  a  time,  Mary  began  to  sus- 
pect his  attempts  to  avoid  her,  and  she  grew  cold 
and  distant  through  pique.  Her  manner,  however, 
had  no  effect  upon  Brandon,  who  did  not,  or  at  least 
appeared  not  to  notice  it.  This  the  girl  could  not 
endure,  and  lacking  strength  to  resist  her  heart,  soon 
returned  to  the  attack. 

Mary  had  not  seen  Brandon  for  nearly  two  weeks, 
and  was  growing  anxious,  when  one  day  she  and 
Jane  met  him  in  a  forest  walk  near  the  river,  Bran- 
don was  sauntering  along  reading  when  they  over- 
took him.  Jane  told  me  afterwards  that  Mary's 
conduct  upon  coming  up  to  him  was  pretty  and 
curious  beyond  the  naming.  At  first  she  was  in- 
clined to  be  distant,  and  say  cutting  things,  but 
when  Brandon  began  to  grow  restive  under  tliem 
and  showed  signs  of  turning  back,  she  changed 
front  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  and  was  all  sweet- 


JLo'C'eV  F^terce  Stveetne^'t  107 

ness.  She  laughed  and  smiled  and  dimpled,  as  only 
she  could,  and  was  full  of  bright  glances  and 
gracious  words. 

She  tried  a  hundred  little  schemes  to  get  him  to 
herself  for  a  moment — the  hunting  of  a  wild  flower 
or  a  four-leaved  clover,  or  the  explomtion  of  some 
little  nook  in  the  forest  toward  which  she  would 
lead  him — but  Jane  did  not  at  first  take  the  hint  and 
kept  close  at  her  heels.  Mary's  impulsive  nature 
was  not  much  given  to  hinting — she  usually  nodded 
and  most  emphatically  at  that — so  after  a  few  fail- 
ures to  rid  herself  of  her  waiting  lady  she  said 
impatiently:  "J*^"^'  i"  the  name  of  heaven  don't 
keep  so  close  to  us.  You  won't  move  out  of  reach  of 
my  hand,  and  you  know  how  often  it  inclines  to  box 
vour  ears." 

Jane  did  know,  I  am  sorry  for  Alary's  sake  to  say, 
how  often  the  fair  hand  was  given  to  such  spasms ; 
so  with  this  emphasized  hint  she  walked  on  ahead, 
half  sulky  at  the  indignity  put  upon  her,  and  half 
amused  at  her  whimsical  mistress. 

Mary  lost  no  time,  but  began  the  attack  at  once. 

"Now,  sir,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth ;  why 
do  you  refuse  my  invitations  and  so  persistently 
keep  away  from  me?  I  thought  at  first  I  would 
simply  let  you  go  your  way,  and  then  I  thought  I — ■ 
I  would  not.  Don't  deny  it.  I  know  you  won't. 
With  all  your  faults,  you  don't  tell  even  little  lies; 
not  even  to  a  woman — I  believe.  Now  there  is  a 
fiae  compliment — is  it   not? — when   I   intended  to 


lo8   XOhen  Kjitghihood  Was  in  Flower 

scold  you !"  She  gave  a  fluttering  little  laugh,  and, 
with  hanging  head,  continued :  "Tell  me,  is  not  the 
king's  sister  of  quality  sufficient  to  suit  you?  Per- 
haps you  must  have  the  queen  or  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin? Tell  me  now?"  And  she  looked  up  at  him, 
half  in  banter,  half  in  doubt. 

"My  duties — ,"  began  Brandon. 

^SDh !  bother  your  duties.    Tell  me  the  truth." 

*'I  will,  if  you  let  me,"  returned  Brandon,  who 
had  no  intention  whatever  of  doing  anything  of  the 
sort.  "My  duties  now  occupy  my  time  in  the  even- 
ing 

"That  will  not  do,"  interrupted  Mary,  who  knew 
enough  of  a  guardsman's  duty  to  be  sure  it  was  not 
onerous.  "You  might  as  well  come  to  it  and  tell 
the  truth ;  that  you  do  not  like  our  society."  And 
she  gave  him  a  vicious  little  glance  without  a 
shadow  of  a  smile. 

"In  God's  name,  Lady  Mary,  that  is  not  it," 
answered  Brandon,  who  was  on  the  rack.  "Please 
do  not  think  it.  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  say  such 
a  thing  when  it  is  so  far  from  the  real  truth." 

"Then  tell  me  the  real  truth." 

"I  cannot ;  I  cannot.  I  beg  of  you  not  to  ask. 
Leave  me !  or  let  me  leave  you.  I  refuse  to  answer 
further."  The  latter  half  of  this  sentence  was 
uttered  doggedly  and  sounded  sullen  and  ill- 
humored,  although,  of  course,  it  was  not  so  in- 
tended. He  had  been  so  perilously  near  speaking 
words    which    would    probably    have    lighted,   to 


Lox^e'^s  Fierce  Sbueetne^fS  iog 

their  destruction — to  his,  certainly — the  smoldering 
flames  within  their  breast  that  it  frightened  him, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  spoke  was  but  a  tone 
giving  utterance  to  the  pain  in  his  heart. 

Mary  took  it  as  it  sounded,  and,  in  unfeigned  sur- 
prise, exclaimed  angrily :  "Leave  you?  Do  I  hear 
aright?  I  never  thought  that  I,  the  daughter  and 
sister  of  a  king,  would  live  to  be  dismissed  by  a — 
by  a — any  one." 

"Your  highness — "  began  Brandon ;  but  she  was 
gone  before  he  could  speak. 

He  did  not  follow  her  to  explain,  knowing  how 
dangerous  such  an  explanation  would  be,  but  felt 
that  it  was  best  for  them  both  that  she  should  remain 
offended,  painful  as  the  thought  was  to  him. 

Of  course,  Mary's  womanly  self-esteem,  to  say 
nothing  of  her  royal  pride,  was  wounded  to  the 
quick,  and  no  wonder. 

Poor  Brandon  sat  down  upon  a  stone,  and,  as  he 
longingly  watched  her  retiring  form,  wished  in  his 
heart  he  were  dead.  This  was  the  first  time  he 
really  knew  how  much  he  loved  the  girl,  and  he  saw- 
that,  with  him  at  least,  it  was  a  matter  of  bad  to 
^vorse;   and  at  that  rate  would  soon  be — worst. 

Now  that  he  had  unintentionally  offended  her, 
and  had  permitted  her  to  go  without  an  explanation, 
she  was  dearer  to  him  than  ever,  and,  as  he  sat  there 
vith  his  face  in  his  hands,  he  knew  that  if  matters 
went  on  as  they  were  going,  the  time  would  soon 
come  when  he  would  throw  caution  to  the  dogs  and 


110   to  hen  Kjitghthood  Wcw  in  Flotsfer 

would  try  the  impossible — to  win  her  for  his  own« 
Caution  and  judgment  still  sat  enthroned,  and  they 
told  him  now  what  he  knew  full  well  they  would 
not  tell  him  after  a  short  time — that  failure  was 
certain  to  follow  the  attempt,  and  disaster  sure  to 
follow  failure.  First,  the  king  would,  in  all  proba- 
bility, cut  off  his  head  upon  an  intimation  of  Mary's 
possible  fondness  for  him ;  and,  second,  if  he  should 
be  so  fortunate  as  to  keep  his  head,  Mary  could  not, 
and  certainly  would  not,  marry  him,  even  if  she 
loved  him  with  all  her  heart.  The  distance  between 
them  was  too  great,  and  she  knew  too  well  what  she 
owed  to  her  position.  There  was  but  one  thing  left 
— New  Spain ;  and  he  determined  while  sitting 
there  to  sail  with  the  next  ship. 

The  real  cause  of  Brandon's  manner  had  never 
occurred  to  Mary.  Although  she  knew  her  beauty 
and  power,  as  she  could  not  help  but  know  it — not 
as  a  matter  of  vanity,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact — yet 
love  had  blinded  her  where  Brandon  was  concerned, 
and  that  knowledge  failed  to  give  her  light  as  to  his 
motives,  however  brightly  it  might  illumine  the 
conduct  of  other  men  toward  whom  she  was  indif- 
ferent. 

So  Mary  was  angry  this  time ;  angry  in  earnest, 
and  Jane  felt  the  irritable  palm  more  than  once.  I, 
too,  came  in  for  my  share  of  her  ill  temper,  as  most 
certainly  would  Brandon,  had  he  allowed  himself 
to  come  within  reach  of  her  tongue,  which  he  was 
careful  not  to  do.    An  angry  porcupine  would  have 


LtO'Ve'^  Fierce  SUfeetne-sj  iii 

been  pleasant  company  compared  with  Mary  dur- 
ing this  time.  There  was  no  living  with  her  in 
peace.  Even  the  king  fought  shy  of  her,  and  the 
queen  was  almost  afraid  to  speak.  Pro'  ably  so 
much  general  disturbance  was  never  before  or  since 
collected  within  one  small  body  as  in  that  young 
Tartar-\'enus,  Mary.  She  did  not  tell  Jane  the 
cause  of  her  vexation,  but  only  said  she  "verily 
hated  Brandon,"  and  that,  of  course,  was  the  key 
to  the  whole  situation. 

After  a  fortnight,  this  ill-humor  began  to  sottcn 
in  the  glowing  warmth  of  her  heart,  which  was 
striving  to  reassert  itself , and  the  desire  to  see  Bran- 
don began  to  get  the  better  of  her  sense  of  injury. 

Brandon, tired  of  this  everlasting  watchfulness  to 
keephimself  out  of  temptation, and,  dreading  at  any 
moment  that  lapse  from  strength  which  is  apt  to 
come  to  the  strongest  of  us,  had  resolved  to  quit  his 
place  at  court  and  go  to  New  Spain  at  once.  He 
had  learned,  upon  inquiry,  that  a  ship  would  sail 
from  Bristol  in  about  twenty  days,  and  another  six 
weeks  later.  So  he  chose  the  former  and  was  mak- 
ing his  arrangements  to  leave  as  soon  as  possible. 

He  told  me  of  his  plans  and  spoke  of  his  situa- 
*tion :  "You  know  the  reason  for  my  going,"  he 
said,  "even  if  I  have  never  spoken  of  it.  I  am  not 
much  of  a  Joseph,  and  am  very  little  given  to  run- 
ning away  from  a  beautiful  woman,  but  in  this  case 
I  am  fleeing  from  death  itself.  And  to  think  what 
a  heaven  it  would  be.     You  are  right,  Caskoden ; 


112    to  hen  Kjni^htbood  Wa^  in  floti/er 

no  man  can  withstand  the  light  of  that  girl's  smile, 
I  am  unable  to  tell  how  I  feel  toward  her.  It  some- 
times seems  that  I  can  not  live  another  hour  with- 
out seeing  her;  yet,  thank  God,  I  have  reason 
enough  left  to  know  that  every  sight  of  her  only 
adds  to  an  already  incurable  malady.  What  will 
it  be  when  she  is  the  wife  of  the  king  of  France? 
Does  it  not  look  as  if  wild  life  in  New  Spain  is  my 
only  chance?" 

I  assented  as  we  joined  hands,  and  our  eyes  were 
moist  as  I  tolil  him  how  I  should  miss  him  more 
than  anyone  else  in  all  the  earth — excepting  Jane, 
in  mental  reservation. 

I  told  Jane  what  Brandon  was  about  to  do,  know- 
ing full  well  she  would  tell  Mary;  which  she  did 
at  once. 

Poor  Mar}^ !  The  sighs  began  to  come  now,  and 
such  small  vestiges  of  her  ill-humor  toward  Bran- 
don as  still  remained  were  frightened  off  in  a  hurry 
by  the  fear  that  she  had  seen  the  last  of  him. 

She  had  not  before  fully  known  that  she  loved 
him.  She  knew  he  was  the  most  delightful  com- 
panion she  had  ever  met,  and  that  there  was  an 
exhilaration  about  his  presence  which  almost  intoxi- 
cated her  and  made  life  an  ecstasy,  yet  she  did  not 
know  it  was  love.  It  needed  but  the  thought  that 
she  was  about  to  lose  him  to  make  her  know  hec 
malady,  and  meet  it  face  to  face. 

Upon  the  evening  when  Mary  learned  all  this, 
she  went  into  her  chamber  very  early  and  closed  the 


Lox^e*^  Fierce  Stueetness  II3 

door.  No  one  interrupted  her  until  Jane  went  in  to 
robe  her  for  the  night,  and  to  retire.  She  then 
found  that  Mary  had  robed  herself  and  was  lying  in 
bed  with  her  head  covered,  apparently  asleep.  Jane 
quietly  prepared  to  retire,  and  lay  down  in  her  own 
bed.  The  girls  usually  shared  one  couch,  but  during 
Mary's  ill-temper  she  had  forced  Jane  to  sleep  alone. 

After  a  short  silence  Jane  heard  a  sob  from  the 
other  bed,  then  another,  and  another. 

"Mary,  are  you  weeping?''  she  asked. 

*'Yes.'' 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear  ?" 

''Nothing,"  with  a  sigh. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  come  to  your  bed  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do."  So  Jane  went  over  and  lay  beside 
Mary,  who  gently  put  her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"When  will  he  leave?"  whispered  Mary,  shyly 
confessing  all  by  her  question. 

"I  do  not  know,"  responded  Jane,  "but  he  will 
see  you  before  he  goes," 

"Do  you  believe  he  will  ?" 

"I  know  it;"  and  .with  this  consolation  Mary 
softly  wept  herself  to  sleep. 

After  this,  for  a  few    days,    Mary    was    quiet 

'enough.    Her  irritable  mood  had  vanished,  but  Jane 

could  see  that  she  was  on  the  lookout  for  some  one 

all  the  time,  although  she  made  the  most  pathetic 

little  efforts  to  conceal  her  watchfulness. 

At  last  a  meeting  came  about  in  this  way:  Next 
to  the  king's  bed-chamber  was  a  luxuriously  fur- 


114    te^hen  Kntghihood  Wa4  in  Flower 

nished  little  apartment  with  a  well-selected  library. 
Here  Brandon  and  I  often  went,  afternoons,  to  read, 
as  we  were  sure  to  be  undisturbed. 

Late  one  day  Brandon  had  gone  over  to  this  quiet 
retreat,  and  having  selected  a  volume,  took  his  place 
in  a  secluded  little  alcove  half  hidden  in  arras 
draperies.  There  was  a  cushioned  seat  along  the 
wall  and  a  small  diamond-shaped  window  to  furnish 
light. 

He  had  not  been  there  long  when  in  came  Mary. 
I  can  not  say  whether  she  knew  Brandon  was  there 
or  not,  but  she  was  there  and  he  was  there,  which 
is  the  only  thing  to  the  point,  and  finding  him,  she 
stepped  into  the  alcove  before  he  was  aware  of  her 
presence. 

Brandon  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  with  a 
low  bow  was  backing  himself  out  most  deferentially, 
to  leave  her  in  sole  possession  if  she  wished  tC^ 
rest. 

"Master  Brandon,  you  need  not  go.  I  will  not 
hurt  you.  Besides,  if  this  place  is  not  large  enough 
for  us  both,  I  will  go.  I  would  not  disturb  you.'* 
She  spoke  with  a  tremulous  voice  and  a  quick,  un- 
easy glance,  and  started  to  move  backward  out  of 
the  alcove. 

"Lady  Mary,  how  can  you  speak  so  ?  You  know 
•^-you  must  know — oh !  I  beg  you — "  But  she  in- 
terrupted him  by  taking  his  arm  and  drawing  him 
to  a  seat  beside  her  on  the  cushion.  She  could  have 
drawn  down  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes  with  the  look 


Lo'V^^  Pierce  Stveetnes^  US 

she  gave  Brandon,  so  full  was  it  of  command,  en- 
treaty and  promise. 

"That's  it ;  I  don't  know,  but  I  want  to  know ; 
and  I  want  you  to  sit  here  beside  me  and  tell  me. 
I  am  going  to  be  reconciled  with  you,  despite  the 
way  you  treated  me  when  last  we  met.  I  am  going 
to  be  friends  with  you  whether  you  will  or  not 
Now  what  do  you  say  to  that,  sir?"  She  spoke  with 
a  fluttering  little  laugh  of  uneasy  non-assurance, 
which  showed  that  her  heart  was  not  nearly  so  con- 
fident nor  so  bold  as  her  words  would  make  believe. 
Poor  Brandon,  usually  so  ready,  had  nothing  "to 
say  to  that,"  but  sat  in  helpless  silence. 

Was  this  the  sum  total  of  all  his  wise  determina- 
tions made  at  the  cost  of  so  much  pain  and  effort? 
Was  this  the  answer  to  all  his  prayers,  "Lead  me 
not  into  temptation"?  He  had  done  his  part,  for 
he  had  done  all  he  could.  Heaven  had  not  helped 
him,  since  here  was  temptation  thrust  upon  him 
when  least  expected,  and  when  the  way  was  so  nar- 
row he  could  not  escape,  but  must  meet  it  face  to 
face. 

Mary  soon  recovered  her  self-possession — women 
are  better  skilled  in  this  art  than  men — and  con- 
tinued : 

"I  am  not  intending  to  say  one  word  about  your 
treatment  of  me  that  day  over  in  the  forest,  al- 
though it  was  very  bad,  and  you  have  acted  abomin- 
ably ever  since.  Now  is  not  that  kind  Jn  me?"  And 
she  softly  laughed  as  she  peeped  up  at  the  poor  fet 


ii6    tOhen  K.nighihoodWa^  in  Ftottfer 

low  from  beneath  those  sweeping  lashes,  with  the 
premeditated  purpose  of  tantalizing  him,  I  suppose. 
She  was  beginning  to  know  her  power  over  him, 
and  it  was  never  greater  than  at  this  moment.  Her 
beauty  had  its  sweetest  quality,  for  the  princess 
was  sunk  and  the  woman  was  dominant,  with 
flushed  face  and  flashing  eyes  that  caught  a  double 
luster  from  the  glowing  love  that  made  her  heart 
beat  so  fast.  Her  gown,  too,  was  the  best  she  could 
have  worn  to  show  her  charms.  She  must  have 
known  Brandon  was  there,  and  must  have  dressed 
especially  to  go  to  him.  She  wore  her  favorite  long 
flowing  outer  sleeve,  without  the  close  fitting  inner 
one.  It  was  slit  to  the  shoulder,  and  gave  entranc- 
ing glimpses  of  her  arms  with  every  movement, 
leaving  them  almost  bare  when  she  lifted  her  hands, 
which  was  often,  for  she  was  as  full  of  gestures  as  a 
Frenchwoman.  Her  bodice  was  cut  low,  both  back 
and  front,  showing  her  large  perfectly  molded 
throat  and  neck,  like  an  alabaster  pillar  of  beauty 
and  strength,  and  disclosing  her  bosom  just  to  its 
shadowy  incurving,  white  and  billowy  as  drifted 
snow.  Her  hair  was  thrown  back  in  an  attempt  at 
a  coil,  though,  like  her  own  rebellious  nature,  it 
could  not  brook  restraint,  and  persistently  escaped 
in  a  hundred  little  curls  that  fringed  her  face  and 
lay  upon  the  soft  white  nape  of  her  neck  like  fluflfy 
shreds  of  sun-lit  floss  on  new  cut  ivory. 

With  the  mood  that  was  upon    her,    I    wonder 
Brandon  maintained  his  self-restraint  even  for  a 


"Put  up  vour  swonis  or  <liit\v  tlu-ni  on    Mary    Tuilor, 
the  8ist«r  ot  vour  Kiiij:." — Acr  III. 


l^,cxJe''f  Fierce  Stoeeines^  ii7 

moment.  He  felt  that  his  only  hope  lay  in  silence, 
so  he  sat  beside  her  and  said  nothing.  He  told  me 
long  afterwards  that  while  sitting  there  in  the  inter- 
vals between  her  speech,  the  oddest,  wildest 
thoughts  ran  through  his  brain.  He  wondered  how 
he  could  escape.  He  thought  of  the  window,  and 
that  possibly  he  might  break  away  through  it,  and 
then  he  thought  of  feigning  illness,  and  a  hundred 
other  absurd  schemes,  but  they  all  came  to  nothing, 
and  he  sat  there  to  let  events  take  their  own 
course  as  they  seemed  determined  to  do  in  spite 
of  him. 

After  a  short  silence,  Mar}-  continued,  half  ban- 
teringly:  "Answer  me,  sir!  I  will  have  no  more 
of  this.  You  shall  treat  me  at  least  with  the  cour- 
tesy you  would  show  a  bourgeoise  girl." 

"Oh,  that  you  were  only  a  burgher's  daughter." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  that ;  but  I  am  not.  It  can't  be 
helped,  and  you  shall  answer  me." 

"There  is  no  answer,  dear  lady — I  beg  you — oh, 
do  you  not  see — " 

"Yes,  yes;  but  answer  my  question;  am  I  not 
kind — more  than  you  deserve?" 

"Indeed,  yes;  a  thousand  times.  You  have  al- 
ways been  so  kind,  so  gracious  and  so  condescend- 
ing to  me  that  I  can  only  thank  you,  thank  you, 
thank  you,"  answered  Brandon,  almost  shyly;  not 
daring  to  lift  his  eyes  to  hers. 

Mary  saw  the  manner  quickly  enough — what 
woman  ever  missed  it,  much  less  so  keen-eyed  a  girl 


ii8    to  hen  Kjnighthood  Wa^  in  Flower 

as  she — and  it  gave  her  confidence,  and  brought 
back  the  easy  banter  of  her  old  time  manner. 

"How  modest  we  have  become!  Where  is  the 
boldness  of  which  we  used  to  have  so  much  ?  Kind  ? 
Have  I  always  been  so  ?  How  about  the  first  time  I 
met  you  ?  Was  I  kind  then  ?  And  as  to  condescen- 
sion, don't — don't  use  that  word  between  us," 

"No,"  returned  Brandon,  who,  in  his  turn,  was 
recovering  himself,  "no,  I  can't  say  that  you  were 
very  kind  at  first.  How  you  did  fly  out  at  me  and 
surprise  me.  It  was  so  unexpected  it  almost  took 
me  oflP  my  feet,"  and  they  both  laughed  in  remem- 
bering the  scene  of  their  first  meeting.  "No,  I  can't 
say  your  kindness  showed  itself  very  strongly  in 
that  first  interview,  but  it  was  there  nevertheless, 
and  when  Lady  Jane  led  me  back,  your  real  nature 
asserted  itself,  as  it  always  does,  and  you  were  kind 
to  me;  kind  as  only  you  can  be." 

That  was  getting  very  near  to  the  sentimental; 
dangerously  near,  he  thought;  and  he  said  to  him- 
self: "If  this  does  not  end  quickly  I  shall  have  t© 
escape," 

"You  are  easily  satisfied  if  you  call  that  good," 
laughingly  returned  Mary.  "I  can  be  ever  so  ranch 
better  than  that  if  I  try." 

"Let  me  see  you  try,"  said  Brandon. 

"Why,  I'm  trying  now,"  answered  Mary  with  a 
distracting  little  pout.  "Don't  you  know  genuine 
out-and-out  goodness  when  you  see  it?  I'm  doing 
my  very  best  now.    Can't  you  tell  ?" 


Loxfe's  Fierce  Stveetne^s  119 

"Yes,  I  think  I  recognize  it;  but — but — be  bad 
again." 

"No,  I  won't!  I  will  not  be  bad  even  to  please 
you ;  I  have  determined  not  to  be  bad  and  I  will  not 
— not  even  to  be  good.  This,"  placing  her  hand 
over  her  heart,  "is  just  full  of  'good'  to-day,"  and 
her  lips  parted  as  she  laughed  at  her  own  pleas- 
antry. 

"I  am  afraid  vou  had  better  be  bad — I  give  vou 
fair  warning,"  said  Brandon  huskily.  He  felt  her 
eyes  upon  him  all  the  time,  and  his  strength  and 
good  resolves  were  oozing  out  like  wine  from  an 
ill-coppered  cask.  After  a  short  silence  Mary  con- 
tinued, regardless  of  the  warning: 

"But  the  position  is  reversed  with  us ;  at  first  I 
was  unkind  to  you,  and  you  were  kind  to  me,  but 
now  I  am  kind  to  you  and  you  are  unkind  to  me." 

"I  can  come  back  at  you  with  your  own  words,'* 
responded  Brandon.  "You  don't  know  when  I  am 
kind  to  you.  I  should  be  kinder  to  myself,  at  least, 
were  I  to  leave  you  and  take  myself  to  the  other 
side  of  the  world." 

"Oh  !  that  is  one  thing  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about. 
Jane  tells  me  you  are  going  to  New  Spain?" 

She  was  anxious  to  know,  but  asked  the  question 
partly  to  turn  the  conversation  which  was  fast  be- 
coming perilous.  As  a  girl,  she  loved  Brandon,  and 
knew  it  only  too  well,  but  she  knew  also  that  she 
was  a  princess,  standing  next  to  the  throne  of  the 
greatest  kingdom  on  earth;    in  fact,  at  that  time. 


120    XOhen  Kjitghtbood  Wa^  in  Flok£fer 

the  heir  apparent — Henry  having  no  children — for 
the  people  would  not  have  the  Scotch  king's  imp — 
and  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  as  a  union  with 
Brandon  had  never  entered  her  head,  however  pas- 
sionate her  feelings  toward  him.  She  also  knew 
that  speaking  a  thought  vitalizes  it  and  gives  it 
force;  so,  although  she  could  not  deny  herself  the 
pleasure  of  being  near  him,  of  seeing  him,  and  hear- 
ing the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  now  and  then  feeling 
the  thrill  of  an  accidental  touch,  she  had  enough 
good  sense  to  know  that  a  mutual  confession,  that  is, 
taking  it  for  granted  Brandon  loved  her,  as  she  felt 
almost  sure  he  did,  must  be  avoided  at  all  hazards. 
It  was  not  to  be  thought  of  between  people  so  far 
apart  as  they.  The  brink  was  a  delightful  place, 
full  of  all  the  sweet  ecstasies  and  thrilling  joys  of  a 
seventh  heaven,  but  over  the  brink — well !  there 
should  be  no  "over,"  for  who  was  she?  And  who 
was  he  ?  Those  two  dreadfully  stubborn  facts  could 
not  be  forgotten,  and  the  gulf  between  them  could 
not  be  spanned ;  she  knew  that  only  too  well.  No 
one  better, 

Brandon  answered  her  question :  "I  do  not  know 
about  going;  I  think  I  shall.  I  have  volunteered 
with  a  ship  that  sails  in  two  or  three  weeks  from 
Bristol,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  go." 

"Oh,  no !  do  you  really  mean  it  ?"  It  gave  her  a 
pang  to  hear  that  he  was  actually  going,  and  her 
love  pulsed  higher;  but  she  also  felt  a  sense  of 
relief,  somewhat  as  a  conscientious  house-breaker 


LaJe's  Pierce  Sbueefne^s  I2i 

might  feel  upon  finding  the  door  securely  locked 
against  him.  It  would  take  away  a  temptation 
which  she  could  not  resist,  and  yet  dared  not  yield 
to  much  longer. 

"I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  I  mean  it,"  replied 
Brandon.  "I  should  like  to  remain  in  England  until 
I  can  save  enough  money  out  of  the  king's  allow- 
ance to  pay  the  debt  against  my  father's  estate,  so 
that  I  may  bo  able  to  go  away  and  feel  that  my 
brother  and  si.-ters  are  secure  in  their  honn^ — my 
brother  is  not  strong — but  I  know  it  is  better  for  me 
to  go  now,  and  I  hope  to  find  the  money  cut  there. 
I  could  have  paid  it  with  what  I  lost  to  Judson  be- 
fore I  discovered  him  cheating."  This  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  alluded  to  the  duel,  and  the 
thought  of  it.  in  Mary's  mind,  added  a  faint  touch  of 
fear  to  her  ft  eling  toward  him. 

She  looked  up  with  a  light  in  her  eyes  and  asked : 
"What  is  the  debt?  How  much?  Let  me  give  you 
the  money.  I  have  so  much  more  than  I  need.  Let 
me  pay  it.  Please  tell  me  how  much  it  is  and  I  will 
hand  it  to  you.  You  can  come  to  my  rooms  and  get 
it  01  I  will  send  it  to  you.  Now  tell  me  that  I  may. 
Quickly."  And  she  was  alive  with  enthusiastic  in- 
terest. 

"There  now !  you  are  kind  again  ;  as  kind  as  even 
you  can  be.  Be  sure,  T  thank  you,  though  I  say  it 
only  once,"  and  he  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a  gaze 
she  could  not  stand  even  for  an  instant.  This  was 
growing  dangerous  again,  so,  catching  himself,  he 


122    XOhen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Flctefer 

turned  the  conversation  back  into  the  bantering 
vein. 

"Ah !  you  want  to  pay  the  debt  that  I  may  have 
no  excuse  to  remain  ?  Is  that  it  ?  Perhaps  you  are 
not  so  kind  after  all." 

"No !  no !  you  know  better.  But  let  me  pay  the 
debt.  How  much  is  it  and  to  whom  is  it  owing? 
iTell  me  at  once,  I  command  you." 

"No!   no!  Lady  Mary,  I  cannot." 

"Please  do.  I  beg — if  I  cannot  command.  Now 
I  know  you  will;  you  would  not  make  me  heg 
twice  for  anything  ?"  She  drew  closer  to  him  as  she 
spoke  and  put  her  hand  coaxingly  upon  his  arm. 
With  an  irresistible  impulse  he  took  the  hand  in  his 
and  lifted  it  to  his  lips  in  a  lingering  caress  that 
could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  all  so  quick 
and  so  full  of  fire  and  meaning  that  Mary  took 
fright,  and  the  princess,  for  the  moment,  came  up- 
permost. 

"Master  Brandon!"  she  exclaimed  sharply,  and 
drew  away  her  hand.  Brandon  dropped  the  hand 
and  moved  over  on  the  seat.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
turned  his  face  from  her  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow toward  the  river.  Thus  they  sat  in  silence, 
Brandon's  hand  resting  listlessly  upon  the  cushion 
between  them.  Mary  saw  the  eloquent  movement 
away  from  her  and  his  speaking  attitude,  with 
averted  face;  then  the  princess  went  into  eclipse, 
and  the  imperial  woman  was  ascendant  once  more. 
She  looked  at  him  for  a  brief  space  with  softening 


J^O'Ve*>s  Tierce  Staeetnesj^  123 

eyes,  and,  lifting  her  hand,  put  it  back  in  his,  say- 
ing: 

"There  it  is  again — if  you  want  it." 

Want  it  ?  Ah !  this  was  too  much !  The  hand 
would  not  satisfy  now ;  it  must  be  all,  all !  And  he 
caught  her  to  his  arms  with  a  violence  that  fright- 
ened her. 

"Please  don't,  please!  Not  this  time.  Ah!  have 
mercy,  Charl —  Well !  There !  .  .  .  .  There !  .  .  .  . 
Mary  mother,  forgive  me."  Then  her  woman  spirit 
fell  before  the  whirlwind  of  his  passion,  and  she  was 
on  his  breast  with  her  white  arms  around  his  neck, 
paying  the  same  tribute  to  the  little  blind  god  that 
he  would  have  exacted  from  the  lowliest  maiden  of 
the  land.  Just  as  though  it  were  not  the  blood  of 
fifty  kings  and  queens  that  made  so  red  and  sweet, 
aye,  sweet  as  nectar  thrice  distilled,  those  lips  which 
now  so  freely  paid  their  dues  in  coined  bliss. 

Brandon  held  the  girl  for  a  moment  or  two, 
then  fell  upon  his  knees  and  buried  his  face  in  her 
lap. 

"Heaven  help  me !"  he  cried. 

She  pushed  the  hair  back  from  his  forehead  with 
her  hand  and  as  she  fondled  the  curls,  leaned  over 
him  and  softly  whispered: 

"Heaven  help  us  both ;  for  I  love  you !" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Don't!  don't!  I 
pray  you,"  he  said  wildly,  and  almost  ran  from 
her. 

Mary  followed  him  nearly  to  the    door   of   the 


124    t^^hen  K.ni£hihood  Wa>g  in  Flolauer 

room,  but  when  he  turned  he  saw  that  she  had 
stopped,  and  was  standing  with  her  hands  over  her 
face,  as  if  in  tears. 

He  went  back  to  her  and  said :  "I  tried  to  avoid 
this,  and  if  you  had  helped  me,  it  would  never — " 
But  he  remembered  how  he  had  always  despised 
Adam  for  throwing  the  blame  upon  Eve,  no  matter 
how  much  she  may  have  deserved  it,  and  continued : 
"No;  I  do  not  mean  that.  It  is  all  my  fault.  I 
should  have  gone  away  long  ago.  I  could  not  help 
it;  I  tried.    Oh!  I  tried." 

Mary's  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  floor,  and  tears 
were  falling  over  her  flushed  cheeks,  unheeded  and 
unchecked. 

"There  is  no  fault  in  any  one;  neither  could  I 
help  it,"  she  murmured. 

"No,  no;  it  is  not  that  there  is  any  fault  in  the 
ordinary  sense ;  it  is  like  suicide  or  any  other  great, 
self-inflicted  injury  with  me.  I  am  different  from 
other  men.    I  shall  never  recover." 

"I  know  only  too  well  that  you  are  different  from 
other  men,  and — and  I,  too,  am  different  from  other 
women — am  I  not?" 

"Ah,  different!  There  is  no  other  woman  in  all 
this  wide,  long  world,"  and  they  were  in  each  other's 
arms  again.  She  turned  her  shoulder  to  him  and 
rested  with  the  support  of  his  arms  about  her.  Her 
eyes  were  cast  down  in  silence,  and  she  was  evi- 
dently thinking  as  she  toyed  with  the  lace  of  his 
doublet.    Brandon  knew  her  varying  expressions  so 


Lo'de'j  Pierce  Stueefnej>f  125 

well  that  he  saw  there  was  something  wanting,  so 
he  asked : 

"Is  there  something  you  wish  to  say?" 

"Not  I,"  she  responded  with  emphasis  on  the  pro 
noun. 

"Then  is  it  something  you  wish  me  to  say?" 

She  nodded  her  head  slowly :     "Yes." 

"What  is  it?    Tell  me  and  I  will  say  it." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly:    "No." 

"What  is  it?    I  cannot  guess." 

"Did  you  not  like  to  hear  me  say  that — that  I— 
loved  you?" 

"Ah,  yes ;  you  know  it.  But — oh ! — do  you  wish 
to  hear  me  say  it?" 

The  head  nodded  rapidly  two  or  three  times : 
"Yes."  And  the  black  curving  lashes  were  lifted 
for  a  fleeting,  luminous  instant. 

"It  is  surely  not  necessary;  you  have  known  it 
so  long  already,  but  I  am  only  too  glad  to  say  it.  I 
love  you." 

She  nestled  closer  to  him  and  hid  her  face  on  his 
breast. 

"Now  that  I  have  said  it,  what  is  my  reward?" 
he  asked — and  the  fair  face  came  up,  red  and  rosy, 
with  "rewards,"  any  one  of  which  was  worth  a 
king's  ransom. 

"But  this  is  worse  than  insanity,"  cried  Brandon, 
as  he  almost  pushed  her  from  him.  "We  can  never 
belong  to  each  other;    never." 

"No,"  said  Mary,  with  a  despairing  shake  of  the 


126    te^hen  Kjitghthood  Wa^  in  Ftotver 

head,  as  the  tears  began  to  flow  again ;  "no !  never." 
And  falling  upon  his  knees,  he  caught  both  her 
hands  in  his,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  from  the 
room. 

Her  words  showed  him  the  chasm  anew.     She , 
saw  the  distance  between  them  even  better  than 
he.    Evidently  it  seemed  farther  looking  down  than 
looking    up.      There    was    nothing   left    now    but 
flight. 

He  sought  refuge  in  his  own  apartments  and 
wildly  walked  the  floor,  exclaiming,  "Fool !  fool  that 
I  am  to  lay  up  this  store  of  agony  to  last  me  all  my 
days.  Why  did  I  ever  come  to  this  court?  God 
pity  me — pity  me !"  And  he  fell  upon  his  knees  at 
the  bed,  burying  his  face  in  his  arms,  his  mighty 
man's  frame  shaking  as  with  a  palsy. 

That  same  night  Brandon  told  me  how  he  had 
committed  suicide,  as  he  put  it,  and  of  his  intention 
to  go  to  Bristol  and  there  await  the  sailing  of  the 
ship,  and  perhaps  find  a  partial  resurrection  in  New 
Spain. 

Unfortunately,  he  could  not  start  for  Bristol  at 
once,  as  he  had  given  some  challenges  for  a  tourna- 
ment at  Richmond,  and  could  furnish  no  good  ex- 
cuse to  withdraw  them ;  but  he  would  not  leave  his 
room,  nor  again  see  "that  girl  who  was  driving 
him  mad." 

It  was  better,  he  thought,  and  wisely  too,  that 
there  be  no  leave-taking,  but  that  he  should  go  with- 
out meeting  her. 


LoHJe'^s  Fierce  Szveetne^j^  127 

"If  I  see  her  again,"  he  said,  "I  shall  have  to  kill 
some  one,  even  if  it  is  only  myself." 

I  heard  him  tossing  in  his  bed  all  night,  and  when 
morning  came  he  arose  looking  haggard  enough, 
but  with  his  determination  to  run  away  and  see 
Mary  no  more,  stronger  than  ever  upon  him. 

But  providence,  or  fate,  or  some  one,  ordered  it 
differently,  and  there  was  plenty  of  trouble  ahead. 


CHATTBH  VIII 

^he  Trouble  in  ^illin^^gate  Ward 

ABOUT  a  week  after  Brandon's  memorable  in- 
terview with  Mary  an  incident  occurred  which 
changed  everything  and  came  very  near  ter- 
minating his  career  in  the  flower  of  youth.  It  also 
brought  about  a  situation  of  affairs  that  showed  the 
difference  in  the  quality  of  these  two  persons  thrown 
so  marvelously  together  from  their  far  distant  sta- 
tions at  each  end  of  the  ladder  of  fortune,  in  a  way 
that  reflected  very  little  credit  upon  the  one  from 
the  upper  end.  But  before  I  tell  you  of  that  I  will 
relate  briefly  one  or  two  other  matters  that  had  a 
bearing  upon  what  was  done,  and  the  motives 
prompting  it. 

To  begin  with,  Brandon  had  kept  himself  entirely 
away  from  the  princess  ever  since  the  afternoon 
at  the  king's  ante-chamber.  The  first  day  or  so  she 
sighed,  but  thought  little  of  his  absence;  then  she 
wept,  and  as  usual  began  to  grow  piqued  and  irri- 
table. 

What  was  left  of  her  judgment  told  her  it  was 

better  for  them  to  remain  apart,  but  her  longing 

to  see  Brandon  grew  stronger  as  the  prospect  of  it 

grew  less,  and  she  became  angry  that  it  could  not 

be  gratified.    Jane  was  right ;  an  unsatisfied  desire 

with  Mary  was  torture.    Even  her  sense  of  the  great 

(128) 


IShe  Trouble  in  'Bitlin^jgale  Ward    129 

distance  between  them  had  begun  to  fade,  and  when 
she  so  wished  for  him  and  he  did  not  come,  their 
positions  seemed  to  be  reversed.  At  the  end  of  the 
third  day  she  sent  for  him  to  come  to  her  rooms, 
but  he,  b  a  mighty  effort,  sent  back  a  brief  note 
saying  tha  he  could  not  and  ought  not  to  go.  This, 
of  course,  ihrew  Mary  into  a  great  passion,  for  she 
judged  him  by  herself — a  very  common  but  danger- 
ous method  of  judgment — and  thought  that  if  he 
felt  at  all  as  she  did,  he  would  throw  prudence  to 
the  winds  and  come  to  her,  as  she  knew  she  would 
go  to  him  if  she  could.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that 
Brandon  knew  himself  well  enough  to  be  sure  he 
would  never  go  to  New  Spain  if  he  allowed  another 
grain  of  temptation  to  fall  into  the  balance  against 
him,  but  would  remain  in  London  to  love  hopelessly, 
to  try  to  win  a  hopeless  cause,  and  end  it  all  by 
placing  his  head  upon  the  block. 

It  required  all  his  strength,  even  now,  to  hold 
fast  his  determination  to  go  to  New  Spain.  He  had 
reached  his  limit.  He  had  a  fund  of  that  most  use- 
ful of  all  wisdom,  knowledge  of  self,  and  knew  his 
limitations ;  a  little  matter  concerning  which  nine 
men  out  of  ten  go  all  their  lives  in  blissless  igno- 
rance. 

Mary,  who  was  no  more  given  to  self-analysis 
than  her  pet  linnet,  did  not  appreciate  Brandon's 
potent  reasons,  and  was  in  a  flaming  passion  when 
she  received  his  answer.  Rage  and  humiliation 
completely  smothered,  for  the  time,  her  affection. 


130   to  hen  Kjni^hthood  Wcw  in  Ftokver 

and  she  said  to  herself,  (  er  and  over  again:  "I 
hate  the  low-born  wretcl.  Oh!  to  think  what  I 
have  permitted !"  And  tears  of  shame  and  repent- 
ance came  in  a  flood,  as  they  have  come  from  yield- 
ing woman's  eyes  since  the  world  was  born.  Then 
she  began  to  doubt  his  motives.  As  long  as  she 
thought  she  had  given  her  gift  to  one  who  offered 
a  responsive  passion,  she  was  glad  and  proud  of 
what  she  had  done,  but  she  had  heard  of  man's 
pretense  in  order  to  cozen  woman  out  of  her  favors, 
and  she  began  to  think  she  had  been  deceived.  To 
her  the  logic  seemed  irresistible ;  that  if  the  same 
motive  lived  in  his  heart,  and  prompted  him,  that 
burned  in  her  breast,  and  induced  her,  who  was 
virgin  to  her  very  heart-core,  and  whose  hand  had 
hardly  before  been  touched  by  the  hand  of  man,  to 
give  so  much,  no  power  of  prudence  could  keep 
him  away  from  her.  So  she  concluded  she  had 
given  her  gold  for  his  dross.  This  conclusion  was 
more  easily  arrived  at  owing  to  the  fact  that  she 
had  never  been  entirely  sure  of  the  state  of  his  heart. 
There  had  always  been  a  love-exciting  grain  of 
doubt ;  and  when  the  thought  came  to  her  that  she 
had  been  obliged  to  ask  him  to  tell  her  of  his  affec- 
tion, and  that  the  advances  had  really  all  been  made 
by  her,  that  confirmed  her  suspicions.  It  seemed 
only  too  clear  that  she  had  been  too  quick  to  give — 
no  very  comforting  thought  to  a  proud  girl,  even 
though  a  mistaken  o-ne. 

As   the    days    went   by    and   Brandon    did    not 


Id  he  Trouble  in  'Billingsgate  Ward    131 

come,  her  anger  cooled,  as  usual,  and  again  her 
heart  began  to  ache;  but  her  sense  of  injury 
grew  stronger  day  by  day,  and  she  thought  she 
was,  beyond  a  doubt,  the  most  ill-used  of 
women. 

The  other  matter  I  wish  to  tell  you  is,  that  the 
negotiations  for  Mar)''s  marriage  with  old  Louis 
XII  of  France  were  beginning  to  be  an  open  secret 
about  the  court.  The  Due  de  Longueville,  who  had 
been  held  by  Henry  for  some  time  as  a  sort  of 
hostage  from  the  French  king,  had  opened  negoti- 
ations by  inflaming  the  flickering  passions  of  old 
Louis  with  descriptions  of  Mary's  beauty.  As  there 
was  a  prospect  of  a  new  emperor  soon,  and  as  the 
imperial  bee  had  of  late  been  making  a  most  vehe- 
ment buzzing  in  Henry's  bonnet,  he  encouraged  de 
Longueville,  and  thought  it  would  be  a  good  time 
to  purchase  the  help  of  France  at  the  cost  of  his 
beautiful  sister  and  a  handsome  dower.  Mary,  of 
course,  had  not  been  consulted,  and  although  she 
had  coaxed  her  brother  out  of  other  marriage  proj- 
ects, Henry  had  gone  about  this  as  if  he  were  in 
earnest,  and  it  was  thought  throughout  the  court 
that  Mary's  coaxings  would  be  all  in  vain — a  fear 
which  she  herself  had  begun  to  share,  notwithstand- 
ing her  usual  self-confidence. 

She  hated  the  thought  of  the  marriage,  and 
dreaded  it  as  she  would  death  itself,  though  she  said 
nothing  to  any  one  but  Jane,  and  was  holding  her 
forces  in  reserve  for  the  grand  attack.     She  was 


132    XOhen  Kjii^hthood  Wcm  in  Flower 

preparing  the  way  by  being  very  sweet  and  kind  to 
Henry. 

Now,  all  of  this,  coming  upon  the  heels  of  her 
trouble  with  Brandon,  made  her  most  wretched  in- 
deed. For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  began  to 
feel  suffering ;  that  great  broadener,  in  fact,  maker, 
of  human  character. 

Above  all,  there  was  an  alarming  sense  of  uncer- 
tainty in  everything.  She  could  hardly  bring  herself 
to  believe  that  Brandon  would  really  go  to  New 
Spain,  and  that  she  would  actually  lose  him,  al- 
though she  did  not  want  him,  as  yet;  that  is,  as  a 
prospective  husband.  Flashes  of  all  sorts  of  wild 
schemes  had  begun  to  shoot  through  her  anger  and 
grief  when  she  stared  in  the  face  the  prospect  of  her 
double  separation  from  him — her  marriage  to  an- 
other, and  the  countless  miles  of  fathomless  sea  that 
would  be  between  them.  She  could  endure  any- 
thing better  than  uncertainty.  A  menacing  future 
is  the  keenest  of  all  tortures  for  any  of  us  to  bear, 
but  especially  for  a  girl  like  Mary.  Death  itself  is 
not  so  terrible  as  the  fear  of  it. 

Now  about  this  time  there  lived  over  in  Billings- 
gate Ward — the  worst  part  of  London — a  Jewish 
soothsayer  named  Grouche.  He  was  also  an  astrol- 
oger, and  had  of  late  grown  into  great  fame  as 
prophet  of  the  future — a  fortune-teller. 

His  fame  rested  on  several  remarkable  predic- 
tions which  had  been  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  and  X 
really  think  the  man  had  some  wonderful  powers. 


C/>e  Trouble  in  'BilUn^sgate  Ward    133 

They  said  he  was  half  Jew,  half  g>'psy,  and,  if 
there  is  alchemy  in  the  mixing  of  blood,  that  com- 
bination should  surely  produce  something  peculiar. 
The  city  folk  were  said  to  have  visited  him  in  great 
nimibers,  and,  notwithstanding  the  priests  and  bish- 
ops all  condemned  him  as  an  imp  of  Satan  and  a 
follower  of  witchcraft,  many  fine  people,  including 
some  court  ladies,  continued  to  go  there  by  stealth 
in  order  to  take  a  dangerous,  inquisitive  peep  into 
the  future.  I  say  by  stealth ;  because  his  ostensible 
occupation  of  soothsaying  and  fortune-telling  was 
not  his  only  business.  His  house  was  really  a  place 
of  illicit  meeting,  and  the  soothsaying  was  often 
but  an  excuse  for  going  there.  Lacking  this  osten- 
sible occupation,  he  would  not  have  been  allowed 
to  keep  his  house  within  the  wall,  but  would  have 
been  relegated  to  his  proper  place — Bridge  Ward 
Without. 

Mar}'  had  long  wanted  to  see  this  Grouche,  at 
first  out  of  mere  curiosity;  but  Henry,  who  was 
very  moral — with  other  people's  consciences — would 
not  think  of  permitting  it.  Two  ladies,  Lady  Ches- 
terfield and  Lady  Ormond,  both  good  and  virtuous 
women,  had  been  detected  in  such  a  visit,  and  had 
been  disgraced  and  expelled  from  court  in  the  most 
cruel  manner  by  order  of  the  king  himself. 

Now,  added  to  Mary's  old-time  desire  to  see 
Grouche,  came  a  longing  to  know  the  outcome  of 
the  present  momentous  complication  of  affairs  that 
touched  her  so  closely. 


134    XS^hen  Kjni^hthood  Wa^  in  Flobiter 

She  could  not  wait  for  Time  to  unfold  himself, 
and  drop  his  budget  of  events  as  he  traveled,  but 
she  must  plunge  ahead  of  him,  and  know,  before- 
hand, the  stores  of  the  fates — an  intrusion  tliey  usu- 
ally resent.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  was  Mary's  only 
object  in  going,  nor  that  her  heart  was  as  pure  as  a 
babe's — quite  as  chaste  and  almost  as  innocent.  It 
is  equally  true  that  the  large  proportion  of  persons 
who  visited  Grouche  made  his  soothsaying  an  ex- 
cuse. The  thought  of  how  wretched  life  would  be 
with  Louis  had  put  into  Mary's  mind  the  thought  of 
how  sweet  it  would  be  with  Brandon.  Then  came 
the  wish  that  Brandon  had  been  a  prince,  or  even 
a  great  English  nobleman ;  and  then  leaped  up,  all 
rainbow-hued,  the  hope  that  he  might  yet,  by  reason 
of  his  own  great  virtues,  rise  to  all  of  these,  and 
she  become  his  wife.  But  at  the  threshold  of  this 
fair  castle  came  knocking  the  thought  that  perhaps 
he  did  not  care  for  her,  and  had  deceived  her  to 
gain  her  favors.  Then  she  flushed  with  anger  and 
swore  to  herself  she  hated  him,  and  hoped  never  to 
see  his  face  again.  And  the  castle  faded  and  was 
wafted  away  to  the  realms  of  airy  nothingness. 
t\  Ah !  how  people  will  sometimes  lie  to  themselves ; 
and  sensible  people  at  that. 

So  Mary  wanted  to  see  Grouche;  first,  through 
curiosity,  in  itself  a  stronger  motive  than  we  give  it 
credit  for ;  second,  to  learn  if  she  would  be  able  to 
dissuade  Henry  from  the  French  marriage  and  per- 
haps catch  a  hint  how  to  do  it;   and  last,  but  by 


^he  Trouble  in  'BtUing^^ate  Ward    135 

ro  means  least,  to  discover  the  state  of  Brandon's 
heart  toward  her. 

By  this  time  the  last-named  motive  was  strong 
enough  to  draw  her  any  whither,  although  she 
would  not  acknowledge  it,  even  to  herself,  and  in 
truth  hardly  knew  it ;  so  full  are  we  of  things  we 
know  not  of. 

So  she  determined  to  go  to  see  Grouche  secretly, 
and  was  confident  she  could  arrange  the  visit  in 
such  a  way  that  it  would  never  be  discovered. 

One  morning  I  met  Jane,  who  told  me,  with 
troubled  face,  that  she  and  Mary  were  going  to 
London  to  make  some  purchases,  would  lodge  at 
Bridewell  House,  and  go  over  to  Billingsgate  that 
evening  to  consult  Grouche.  ^lary  had  taken  the 
whim  into  her  wilful  head,  and  Jane  could  not  dis- 
suade her. 

The  court  was  all  at  Grtenwich,  and  nobody  at 
Bridewell,  so  Mary  thought  they  could  disguise 
themselves  as  orange  girls  and  easily  make  the  trip 
without  any  one  being  the  wiser. 

It  was  then,  as  now,  no  safe  matter  for  even  a 
man  to  go  unattended  through  the  best  parts  of  Lon- 
don after  dark,  to  say  nothing  of  Billingsgate,  that 
nest  of  water-rats  and  cut-throats.  But  Mary  did 
not  realize  the  full  danger  of  the  trip,  and  would, 
as  usual,  allow  nobody  to  tell  her. 

She  had  threatened  Jane  with  all  sorts  of  venge- 
ance if  she  divulged  her  secret,  and  Jane  was  mis- 
erable enough  between  her  fears  on  either  hand ;  for 


136    XSJ^hen  JK^ntghihood  Wa4:  in  FloWer 

Mary,  though  the  younger,  held  her  in  complete 
subjection.  Despite  her  fear  of  Mary,  Jane  asked 
me  to  go  to  London  and  follow  them  at  a  distance, 
unknown  to  the  princess.  I  was  to  be  on  duty  that 
night  at  a  dance  given  in  honor  of  the  French  en- 
voys who  had  just  arrived,  bringing  with  them 
commission  of  special  ambassador  to  de  Longue- 
ville  to  negotiate  the  treaty  of  marriage,  and  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  go.  Mary  was  going  partly 
to  avoid  this  ball,  and  her  wilful  persistency  made 
Henry  very  angry.  I  regretted  that  I  could  not  go, 
but  I  promised  Jane  I  would  send  Brandon  in  my 
place,  and  he  would  answer  the  purpose  of  protec- 
tion far  better  than  I.  I  suggested  that  Brandon 
take  with  him  a  man,  but  Jane,  who  was  in  mortal 
fear  of  Mary,  would  not  listen  to  it.  So  it  was 
agreed  that  Brandon  should  meet  Jane  at  a  given 
place  and  learn  the  particulars,  and  this  plan  was 
carried  out. 

Brandon  went  up  to  London  and  saw  Jane,  and 
before  the  appointed  time  hid  himself  behind  a 
hedge  near  the  private  gate  through  which  the  girls 
intended  to  take  their  departure  from  Bridewell. 

They  would  leave  about  dusk  and  return,  so  Mary 
said,  before  it  grew  dark. 

The  citizens  of  London  at  that  time  paid  very 
little  attention  to  the  law  requiring  them  to  hang 
out  their  lights,  and  when  it  was  dark  it  was  dark. 

Scarcely  was  Brandon  safely  ensconced  behind  a 
clump  of  arbor  vitse  when  whom  should  he  see  com- 


XShe  Trouble  in  'Billtngjgaie  Ward    137 

ing  down  the  path  toward  the  gate  but  his  grace,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham.  He  was  met  by  one  of  the 
Bridewell  servants  who  was  in  attendance  upon  the 
princess. 

"Yes,  your  grace,  this  is  the  gate,"  said  the  girl. 
"You  can  hide  yourself  and  watch  them  as  they  go. 
They  will  pass  out  on  this  path.  As  I  said,  I  do  not 
know  where  they  are  going ;  I  only  overheard  them 
say  they  would  go  out  at  this  gate  just  before  dark. 
I  am  sure  they  go  on  some  errand  of  gallantry, 
which  your  grace  will  soon  learn,  I  make  no  doubt." 

He  replied  that  he  "would  take  care  of  that." 

Brandon  did  not  see  where  Buckingham  hid  him- 
self, but  soon  the  two  innocent  adventurers  came 
down  the  path,  attired  in  the  short  skirts  and  bon- 
nets of  orange  girls,  and  let  themselves  out  at  the 
gate.  Buckingham  followed  them  and  Brandon 
quickly  followed  him.  The  girls  passed  through  a 
little  postern  in  the  wall  opposite  Bridewell  House, 
and  walked  rapidly  up  Fleet  Ditch ;  climbed  Ludgate 
Hill ;  passed  Paul's  church ;  turned  toward  the 
river  down  Bennett  Hill ;  to  the  left  on  Thames 
street ;  then  on  past  the  Bridge,  following  Lower 
Thames  street  to  the  neighborhood  of  Fish-street 
Hill,  where  they  took  an  alley  leading  up  toward 
East  Cheap  to  Grouche's  house. 

It  was  a  brave  thing  for  the  girl  to  do,  and  showed 
the  determined  spirit  that  dwelt  in  her  soft  white 
breast.  Aside  from  the  real  dangers,  there  was 
enough  to  deter  any  woman,  I  should  think. 


135    "to hen  Kjnighihood  Was  in  Tlo^er 

Jane  wept  all  the  way  over,  but  Mary  never" 
flinched. 

There  were  great  mud-holes  where  one  sank  ankle- 
deep,  for  no  one  paved  the  street  at  that  time, 
strangely  enough  preferring  to  pay  the  sixpence 
fine  per  square  yard  for  leaving  it  undone.  At  one 
place,  Brandon  told  me,  a  load  of  hay  blocked 
the  streets,  compelling  them  to  squeeze  between  the 
houses  and  the  hay.  He  could  hardly  believe  the 
girls  had  passed  that  way,  as  he  had  not  always  been 
able  to  keep  them  in  view,  but  had  sometimes  to  fol- 
low them  by  watching  Buckingham.  He,  however, 
kept  as  close  as  possible,  and  presently  saw  them 
turn  down  Grouche's  alley  and  enter  his  house. 

Upon  learning  where  they  had  stopped,  Bucking- 
ham hurriedly  took  himself  off,  and  Brandon  waited 
for  the  girls  to  come  out.  It  seemed  a  very  long 
time  that  they  were  in  the  wretched  place,  and  dark- 
ness had  well  descended  upon  London  when  they 
emerged, 

Mary  soon  noticed  that  a  man  was  following 
them,  and  as  she  did  not  know  who  he  was,  became 
greatly  alarmed.  The  object  of  her  journey  had 
been  accomplished  now,  so  the  spur  of  a  strong 
motive  to  keep  her  courage  up  was  lacking. 

"Jane,  some  one  is  following  us,"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  answered  Jane,  with  an  unconcern  that 
surprised  Mary,  for  she  knew  Jane  was  a  coward 
from  the  top  of  her  brown  head  to  the  tip  of  her 
little  pink  heels. 


IS  he  Trouble  in  ^illin^s^ate  Ward    139 

"Oh,  if  I  had  only  taken  your  advice,  Jane,  and 
had  never  come  to  this  wretched  place ;  and  to 
think,  too,  that  I  came  here  only  to  learn  the  worst. 
Shall  we  ever  get  home  alive,  do  you  think  ?" 

They  hurried  on,  the  man  behind  them  taking  less 
care  to  remain  unseen  than  he  did  when  coming. 
Mary's  fears  grew  upon  her  as  she  heard  his  step 
and  saw  his  form  persistently  following  them,  and 
she  clutched  Jane  by  the  arm. 

"It  is  all  over  with  us,  I  know.  I  would  give 
ever}'thing  I  have  or  ever  expect  to  have  on  earth 
for — for  Master  Brandon  at  this  moment."  She 
thought  of  him  as  the  one  person  best  able  to  defend 
her. 

This  was  only  too  welcome  an  opportunity,  and 
Jane  said :  "That  is  Master  Brandon  following 
us.  If  we  wait  a  few  seconds  he  will  be  here,"  and 
she  called  to  him  before  Mary  could  interpose. 

Now  this  disclosure  operated  in  two  ways. 
Brandon's  presence  was,  it  is  true,  just  what  Mary 
had  so  ardently  wished,  but  the  danger,  and,  there- 
fore, the  need,  was  gone  when  she  found  that  the 
man  who  was  following  them  had  no  evil  intent. 
Two  thoughts  quickly  flashed  through  the  girl's 
mind.  She  was  angry  with  Brandon  for  having 
cheated  her  out  of  so  many  favors  and  for  having 
slighted  her  love,  as  she  had  succeeded  in  convincing 
herself  was  the  case,  all  of  which  Grouche  had  con- 
firmed by  telling  her  he  was  false.  Then  she  had 
been  discovered  in  doing  what  blie  knew  she  should 


140   XOhen  Kjii^Mhood  Was  in  Flobuer 

have  left  undone,  and  what  she  was  anxious  to  con- 
ceal from  every  one;  and,  worst  of  all,  had  been 
discovered  by  the  very  person  from  whom  she  was 
most  anxious  to  hide  it. 

So  she  turned  upon  Jane  angrily :  "Jane  Boling- 
broke,  you  shall  leave  me  as  soon  as  we  get  back 
to  Greenwich  for  this  betrayal  of  my  confidence." 

She  was  not  afraid  now  that  the  danger  was  over, 
and  feared  no  new  danger  with  Brandon  at  hand  to 
protect  her,  for  in  her  heart  she  felt  that  to  over- 
come a  few  fiery  dragons  and  a  company  or  so  of 
giants  would  be  a  mere  pastime  to  him;  yet  see 
how  she  treated  him.  The  girls  had  stopped  when 
Jane  called  Brandon,  and  he  was  at  once  by  their 
side  with  uncovered  head,  hoping  for,  and,  of  course, 
expecting,  a  warm  welcome.  But  even  Brandon, 
with  his  fund  of  worldly  philosophy,  had  not  learned 
not  to  put  his  trust  in  princesses,  and  his  surprise 
was  benumbing  when  Mary  turned  angrily  upon 
him. 

"Master  Brandon,  your  impudence  in  following 
us  shall  cost  you  dearly.  We  do  not  desire  your 
company,  and  will  thank  you  to  leave  us  to  our  own 
affairs,  as  we  wish  you  to  attend  exclusively  to 
yours." 

This  from  the  girl  who  had  given  him  so  much 
within  less  than  a  week !    Poor  Brandon ! 

Jane,  who  had  called  him  up,  and  was  the  cause 
of  his  following  them,  began  to  weep. 

"Sir,"  said  she,  "forgive  me;  it  was  not  ray  fault  j 


^he  Trouble  in  'BiUin^^gaie  Ward    I4t 

she  had  just  said — "  Slap!  came  Man''s  hand  on 
Jane's  mouth ;  and  Jane  was  marched  oflf,  weeping 
bitterly. 

The  girls  had  started  up  toward  East  Cheap  when 
they  left  Grouche's,  intending  to  go  home  by  an 
upper  route,  and  now  they  walked  rapidly  in  that 
direction.  Brandon  continued  to  follow  them,  not- 
withstanding what  Mary  had  said,  and  she  thanked 
him  and  her  God  ever  after  that  he  did. 

They  had  been  walking  not  more  than  five  min- 
utes, when,  just  as  the  girls  turned  a  corner  into  a 
secluded  little  street,  winding  its  way  among  the  fish 
warehouses,  four  horsemen  passed  Brandon  in  evi- 
dent pursuit  of  them.  Brandon  hurried  forward, 
but  before  he  reached  the  corner  heard  screams  of 
fright,  and  as  he  turned  into  the  street  distinctly 
saw  that  two  of  the  men  had  dismounted  and  were 
trying  to  overtake  the  fleeing  girls.  Fright  lent 
wings  to  their  feet,  and  their  short  skirts  affording 
freedom  to  their  limbs,  they  were  giving  the  pur- 
suers a  warm  little  race,  screaming  at  every  step  to 
the  full  limit  of  their  voices.  How  they  did  run  and 
scream !  It  was  but  a  moment  till  Brandon  came 
up  with  the  pursuers,  who,  all  unconscious  that  they 
in  turn  were  pursued,  did  not  expect  an  attack  from 
the  rear.  The  men  remaining  on  horseback  shouted 
an  alarm  to  their  comrades,  but  so  intent  were  the 
latter  in  their  pursuit  that  they  did  not  hear.  One 
of  the  men  on  foot  fell  dead,  pierced  through  the 
back  of  the  neck  by  Brandon's  sword,  before  eithe' 


142   t&}hen  Kjii^hihood  Wa>s  in  FloisfCf 

was  aware  of  his  presence.  The  other  turned,  but 
was  a  corpse  before  he  could  cry  out.  The  girls 
had  stopped  a  short  distance  ahead,  exhausted  by 
their  flight.  Mary  had  stumbled  and  fallen,  but 
had  risen  again,  and  both  were  now  leaning  against 
a  wall,  clinging  to  each  other,  a  picture  of  abject 
terror.  Brandon  ran  to  the  girls,  but  by  the  time 
he  reached  them  the  two  men  on  horseback 
were  there  also,  hacking  away  at  him  from  their 
saddles.  Brandon  did  his  best  to  save  himself  from 
being  cut  to  pieces  and  the  girls  from  being  tram- 
pled under  foot  by  the  prancing  horses.  A  narrow 
jutting  of  the  wall,  a  foot  or  two  in  width,  a  sort 
of  flying  buttress,  gave  him  a  little  advantage,  and 
up  into  the  slight  shelter  of  the  corner  thus  formed 
he  thrust  the  girls,  and  with  his  back  to  them, 
faced  his  unequal  foe  with  drawn  sword.  Fortu- 
nately the  position  allowed,  only  one  horse  to  attack 
them.  Two  men  on  foot  would  have  been  less  in 
each  other's  way  and  much  more  effective.  The 
men,  however,  stuck  to  their  horses,  and  one  of 
them  pressed  the  attack,  striking  at  Brandon  most 
viciously.  It  being  dark,  and  the  distance  deceptive, 
the  horseman's  sword  at  last  struck  the  wall,  a 
flash  of  sparks  flying  in  its  trail,  and  lucky  it  was, 
or  this  story  would  have  ended  here.  Thereupon 
Brandon  thrust  his  sword  into  the  horse's  throat, 
causing  it  to  rear  backward,  plunging  and  lunging 
into  the  street,  where  it  fell,  holding  its  rider  by 
the  leg  against  the  cobble-stones  of  a  littJe  gutter. 


tShe  Trouble  in  'Billin^^sgaxe  Ward    143 

A  en'  from  the  fallen  horseman  brought  his  com- 
panion to  his  side,  and  gave  Brandon  an  opportunity 
to  escape  with  the  girls.  Of  this  he  took  advan- 
tage, you  may  be  sure,  for  one  of  his  mottoes  was, 
that  the  greatest  fool  in  the  work!  is  he  who  docs 
not  early  in  life  learn  how  and  whon  to  run. 

In  the  light  of  the  sparks  from  the  sword-stroke 
jrpon  the  wall,  brief  as  it  was,  Brandon  recognized 
the  face  of  Buckingham,  from  which  the  mask  had 
fallen.  Of  this  he  did  not  speak  to  any  one  till 
long  afterward,  and  his  silence  was  almost  his  un- 
doing. 

How  often  a  word  spoken  or  unspoken  may  liave 
the  very  deuce  in  it  either  way ! 

The  girls  were  nearly  dead  from  fright,  and  in 
order  to  make  any  sort  of  progress  Brandon  had 
to  carry  the  princess  and  help  Jane  until  he  thought 
they  were  out  of  danger.  Jane  soon  recovered,  but 
Mary  did  not  seem  anxious  to  walk,  and  lay  with 
her  head  upon  Brandon's  shoulder,  apparently  con- 
tented enough. 

In  a  few  minutes  Jane  said,  "If  you  can  walk  now, 
my  lady,  I  think  you  had  better.  We  shall  soon  be 
near  Fishmonger's  Hall,  where  some  one  is  sure  to 
be  standing  at  this  hour." 

Mary  said  nothing  in  reply  to  Jane,  but,  as  Bran- 
don fell  a  step  or  two  behind  at  a  narrow  crossing, 
whispered: 

"Forgive  me,  forgive  me;  I  will  do  any  penance 
you  ask;    I  am  unworthy  to  speak  your  name.     I 


144    tOhen  Kjni^hihood  Wa4  in  Ftoiver 

owe  you  my  life  and  more — and  more  a  thousand 
times."  At  this  she  lifted  her  arm  and  placed  her 
hand  upon  his  cheek  and  neck.  She  then  learned 
for  the  first  time  that  he  was  wounded,  and  the 
tears  came  softly  as  she  slipped  from  his  arms  to  the 
ground.  She  walked  beside  him  quietly  for  a  little 
time,  then,  taking  his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  gently 
lifted  it  to  her  lips  and  laid  it  upon  her  breast.  Half 
an  hour  afterward  Brandon  left  the  girls  at  Bride- 
well House,  went  over  to  the  Bridge  where  he  had 
left  his  horse  at  a  hostelry,  and  rode  down  to  Green- 
wich. 

So  Mary  had  made  her  trip  to  Grouche's,  but  It 
was  labor  worse  than  lost.  Grouche  had  told  hef 
nothing  she  wanted  to  know,  though  much  that  he 
supposed  she  would  like  to  learn.  He  had  told  her 
she  had  many  lovers,  a  fact  which  her  face  and  form 
would  make  easy  enough  to  discover.  He  informed 
her  also  that  she  had  a  low-born  lover,  and  in  order 
to  put  a  little  evil  in  with  the  good  fortune,  and 
give  what  he  said  an  air  of  truth,  he  added  to 
Mary's  state  of  unrest  more  than  he  thought  by 
telling  her  that  her  low-born  lover  was  false.  He 
thought  to  flatter  her  by  predicting  that  she  would 
soon  marry  a  very  great  prince  or  nobleman,  the 
indications  being  in  favor  of  the  former,  and,  in 
place  of  this  making  her  happy,  she  wished  the 
wretched  soothsayer  in  the  bottomless  pit — he  and 
all  his  prophecies;  herself,  too,  for  going  to  him. 
His  guesses  were  pretty  shrewd ;  that  is,  admitting 


IS  he  Trouble  in  ^tllin^'S^ate  Ward    145 

he  did  not  know  who  Mary  was,  which  she  at  least 
supposed  was  the  case.  So  Mary  wept  that  night 
and  moaned  and  moaned  because  she  had  gone  to 
Grouche's.  It  had  added  infinitely  to  the  pain  of 
which  her  heart  was  already  too  full,  and  made  her 
thoroughly  wretched  and  unhappy.  As  usual 
though,  with  the  blunders  of  stubborn,  self-willed 
people,  some  one  else  had  to  pay  the  cost  of  her 
folly.  Brandon  was  paNTiiaster  in  this  case,  and 
when  you  see  how  dearly  he  paid,  and  how  poorly 
she  requited  the  debt,  I  fear  you  will  despise  her. 
Wait,  though !  Be  not  hasty.  The  right  of  judg- 
ment belongs  to — you  know  whom.  No  man  knows 
another  man's  heart,  much  less  a  woman's,  so  how 
can  he  judge?  We  shall  all  have  more  than  enough 
of  judging  by  and  by.  So  let  us  put  off  for  as  many 
to-morrows  as  possible  the  thing  that  should  be 
left  undone  to-day. 


CHATTEL  IX 

f^ul  not  your  Trust  in  'Princesses 

I  THOUGHT  the  king's  dance  that  night  would 
never  end,  so  fond  were  the  Frenchmen  of  our 
fair  ladies,  and  I  was  more  than  anxious  to  see 
Brandon  and  learn  the  issue  of  the  girls'  escapade, 
as  I  well  knew  the  danger  attending  it. 

All  things,  however,  must  end,  so  early  in  the 
morning  I  hastened  to  our  rooms,  where  I  found 
Brandon  lying  in  his  clothes,  everything  saturated 
with  blood  from  a  dozen  sword  cuts.  He  was  very 
weak,  and  I  at  once  had  in  a  barber,  who  took  off 
his  shirt  of  mail  and  dressed  his  wounds.  He  then 
dropped  into  a  deep  sleep,  while  I  watched  the  night 
out.  Upon  awakening  Brandon  told  me  all  that  had 
happened,  but  asked  me  to  say  nothing  of  his  ill- 
ness, as  he  wished  to  keep  the  fact  of  his  wounds 
secret  in  order  that  he  might  better  conceal  the 
cause  of  them.  But,  as  I  told  you,  he  did  not  speak 
of  Buckingham's  part  in  the  affray. 

I  saw  the  princess  that  afternoon,  and  expected, 
of  course,  she  would  inquire  for  her  defender.  One 
who  had  given  such  timely  help  and  who  was  suf- 
fering so  much  on  her  account  was  surely  worth  a 
little  solicitude;  but  not  a  word  did  she  ask.  She 
did  not  come  near  me,  but  made  a  point  of  avoid- 
ance, as  I  could  plainly  see.    The  next  morning  she, 

(146) 


T'ut  not  your  Tru4i  in  T^rinces^fe't      147 

with  Jane,  went  over  to  Scotland  Palace  without 
so  much  as  a  breath  of  inquiry  from  either  of  them. 
This  heartless  conduct  enraged  me ;  but  I  was  glad 
to  learn  afterward  that  Jane's  silence  was  at  AIar>''s 
command — that  bundle  of  selfishness  fearing  that 
any  solicitude,  however  carefully  shown  upon  her 
part,  might  reveal  her  secret. 

It  seems  that  Mary  had  recent  intelligence  of  the 
forward  state  of  affairs  in  the  marriage  negotia- 
tions, and  felt  that  a  discovery  by  her  brother  of 
what  she  had  done,  especially  in  view  of  the  disas- 
trous results,  would  send  her  to  France  despite  all 
the  coaxing  she  could  do  from  then  till  doomsday. 

It  was  a  terrible  fate  hanging  over  her,  doubly 
so  in  view  of  the  fact  that  she  loved  another  man ; 
and  looking  back  at  it  all  from  the  vantage  point  of 
time,  I  cannot  wonder  that  it  drove  other  things 
out  of  her  head  and  made  her  seem  selfish  in  her 
frightened  desire  to  save  herself. 

About  twelve  o'clock  of  the  following  night  I  was 
awakened  by  a  knock  at  my  door,  and,  upon  open- 
ing, in  walked  a  sergeant  of  the  sheriff  of  London, 
with  four  yeomen  at  his  heels. 

The  sergeant  asked  if  one  Charles  Brandon  was 
present,  and  upon  my  affirmative  answer  demanded 
that  he  be  forthcoming.  I  told  the  sergeant  that 
Brandon  was  confined  to  his  bed  with  illness,  where- 
upon he  asked  to  be  shown  to  his  room. 

It  was  useless  to  resist  or  to  evade,  so  I  awakened 
Brandon  and  took  the  sergeant  in.     Here  he  read 


148    to  hen  Kjnighihood  Wa>s  in  F^lott/er 

his  warrant  to  arrest  Charles  Brandon,  Esquire,  for 
the  murder  of  two  citizens  of  London,  perpetrated, 
done  and  committed  upon  the  night  of  such  and 
such  a  day,  of  this  year  of  our  Lord,  15 14.  Bran- 
don's hat  had  been  found  by  the  side  of  the  dead 
men,  and  the  authorities  had  received  information 
from  a  high  source  that  Brandon  was  the  guilty  per- 
son.   That  high  source  was  evidently  Buckingham. 

When  the  sergeant  found  Brandon  covered  with 
M^ounds  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt,  and  al- 
though hardly  able  to  lift  his  hand  he  was  forced 
to  dress  and  go  with  them.  A  horse  litter  was  pro- 
cured and  we  all  started  to  London. 

While  Brandon  was  dressing,  I  said  I  would  at 
once  go  and  awaken  the  king,  who  I  knew  would 
pardon  the  offense  when  he  heard  my  story,  but 
Brandon  asked  the  sergeant  to  leave  us  to  ourselves 
for  a  short  time,  and  closed  the  door. 

"Please  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  Caskoden,"  said 
he ;  "if  you  tell  the  king  I  will  declare  there  is  not 
one  word  of  truth  in  your  story.  There  is  only  one 
person  in  the  world  who  may  tell  of  that  night's 
happenings,  and  if  she  does  not  they  shall  remain 
untold.  She  will  make  it  all  right  at  once,  I  know. 
I  would  not  do  her  the  foul  wrong  to  think  for  one 
instant  that  she  will  fail.  You  do  not  know  her; 
she  sometimes  seems  selfish,  but  it  is  thoughtlessness 
fostered  by  flattery,  and  her  heart  is  right.  I  would 
trust  her  with  my  life.  If  you  breathe  a  word  of 
what  I  have  told  you,  you  may  do  more  harm  than 


< 

\ 

5 


o 


Tut  net  your  Tru^  in  Trtnce>s>ses      i49 

you  can  ever  remedy,  and  I  ask  you  to  say  nothing 
to  any  one.  If  the  princess  would  not  liberate  nie 
.  .  .  but  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  Never 
doubt  that  she  can  and  will  do  it  better  than  you 
think.    She  is  all  gold." 

This,  of  course,  silenced  me,  as  I  did  not  know 
what  new  danger  I  might  create,  nor  how  I  might 
mar  the  matter  I  so  much  wished  to  mend.  I  did 
not  tell  Brandon  that  the  girls  had  left  Greenwich, 
nor  of  my  undefined,  and,  perhaps,  unfounded  fear 
that  Mary  might  not  act  as  he  thought  she  would 
in  a  great  emergency,  but  silently  helped  him  to 
dress  and  went  to  London  along  with  him  and  the 
sheriff's  sergeant. 

Brandon  was  taken  to  Newgate,  the  most  loath- 
some prison  in  London  at  that  time,  it  being  used 
for  felons,  while  Ludgate  was  for  debtors.  Here 
he  was  thrown  into  an  underground  dungeon  foul 
with  water  that  seeped  through  the  old  masonry 
from  the  moat,  and  alive  with  every  noisome  thing 
that  creeps.  There  was  no  bed,  no  stool,  no  floor, 
not  even  a  wisp  of  a  straw ;  simply  the  recking  stone 
walls,  covered  with  fungus,  and  the  windowless 
arch  overhead.  One  could  hardly  conceive  a  more 
horrible  place  in  which  to  spend  even  a  moment. 
I  had  a  glimpse  of  it  by  the  light  of  the  keeper's 
Ipntern  as  they  put  him  in,  and  it  seemed  to  me  a 
single  night  in  that  awful  place  would  have  killed 
me  or  driven  me  mad.  I  protested  and  begged  and 
tried  to  bribe,  but  it  was  all  of  no  avail;  the  keeper 


150    'Qlfhen  Kjxighihood  Was  in  Ftotefer 

had  been  bribed  before  I  arrived.  Although  it  could 
do  no  possible  good,  I  was  glad  to  stand  outside 
the  prison  walls  in  the  drenching  rain,  all  the  rest 
of  that  wretched  night,  that  I  might  be  as  near 
as  possible  to  my  friend  and  suffer  a  little  with 
him. 

Was  not  I,  too,  greatly  indebted  to  him  ?  Had  he 
not  imperiled  his  life  and  given  his  blood  to  save 
the  honor  of  Jane  as  well  as  of  Mary — Jane,  dearer 
to  me  a  thousand-fold  than  the  breath  of  my  nos- 
trils? And  was  he  not  suffering  at  that  moment 
because  of  this  great  service,  performed  at  my  re- 
quest and  in  my  place?  If  my  whole  soul  had  not 
gone  out  to  him  I  should  have  been  the  most  un- 
grateful wretch  on  earth  ;  worse  even  than  a  pair  of 
selfish,  careless  girls.  But  it  did  go  out  to  him, 
and  I  believe  I  would  have  bartered  my  life  to  have 
freed  him  from  another  hour  in  that  dungeon. 

As  soon  as  the  prison  gates  were  opened  next 
morning,  I  again  importuned  the  keeper  to  give 
Brandon  a  more  comfortable  cell,  but  his  reply  was 
that  such  crimes  had  of  late  become  so  frequent  in 
London  that  no  favor  could  be  shown  those  who 
committed  them,  and  that  men  like  Brandon,  who 
ought  to  know  and  act  better,  deserved  the  maxi- 
mum punishment. 

I  told  him  he  was  wrong  in  this  case ;  that  I  knew 
the  facts,  and  everything  would  be  clearly  explainea 
that  very  day  and  Brandon  released, 

"That's  all  very  well,"  responded  the  stubborn 


Put  not  your  Truest  in  7*rince>f>re>t      151 

creature;  "nobody  is  guilty  who  comes  here;  they 
can  ever}'  one  prove  innocence  clearly  and  at  once. 
Notwithstanding,  they  nearly  all  hang,  and  fre- 
quently, for  variety's  sake,  are  drawn  and  quar- 
tered." 

I  waited  about  Xewgate  until  nine  o'clock,  and 
as  I  passed  out  met  Buckingham  and  his  man  John- 
son, a  sort  of  lawyer-knight,  going  in.  I  went  down 
to  the  palace  at  Greenwich,  and  finding  that  the 
girls  were  still  at  Scotland  Palace,  rode  over  at  once 
to  see  them. 

Upon  getting  ^lary  and  Jane  to  myself,  I  told 
them  of  Brandon's  arrest  on  the  charge  of  murder, 
and  of  his  condition,  lying  half  dead  from  wounds 
and  loss  of  blood,  in  that  frightful  dungeon.  The 
tale  moved  them  greatly,  and  they  both  gave  way 
to  tears.  I  think  Mary  had  heard  of  the  arrest  be- 
fore, as  she  did  not  seem  surprised. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  tell  the  cause  of  the  kill- 
ing?" she  asked. 

"I  know  he  will  not,"  I  answered ;  "but  I  also 
knofcv  that  he  knows  you  will,"  and  I  looked  straight 
into  her  face. 

"Certainly  we  will/'  said  Jane;  "we  will  go  to 
the  king  at  once,"  and  she  was  on  the  qui  vive  to 
start  immediately. 

Mary  did  not  at  once  consent  to  Jane's  proposi- 
tion, but  sat  in  a  reverie,  looking  with  tearful  eyes 
into  vacancy,  apparently  absorbed  in  thought.  After 
a  little  pressing  from  us  she  said:     "I  suppose  it 


152    XS}hen  Kjni^hihood  Wa^s  in  Flotver 

will  have  to  be  done ;  I  can  see  no  other  way ;  but 
blessed  Mother  Mary!   ....     help  me!" 

The  girls  made  hasty  preparations,  and  we  all 
started  back  to  Greenwich  that  Mary  might  tell 
the  king.  On  the  road  over,  I  stopped  at  Newgate 
to  tell  Brandon  that  the  princess  would  soon  have 
him  out,  knowing  how  welcome  liberty  would  be  at 
her  hands ;   but  I  was  not  permitted  to  see  him. 

I  swallowed  my  disappointment,  and  thought  it 
would  be  only  a  matter  of  a  few  hours'  delay — the 
time  spent  in  riding  down  to  Greenwich  and  send- 
ing back  a  messenger.  So,  light-hearted  enough  at 
the  prospect,  I  soon  joined  the  girls,  and  we  can- 
tered briskly  home. 

After  waiting  a  reasonable  time  for  Mary  to  see 
the  king,  I  sought  her  again  to  learn  where  and 
from  whom  I  should  receive  the  order  for  Brandon's 
release,  and  when  I  should  go  to  London  to  bring 
him. 

What  was  my  surprise  and  disgust  when  Mary 
told  me  she  had  not  yet  seen  the  king — that  she 
had  waited  to  "eat,  and  bathe,  and  dress,"  and  that 
"a  few  moments  more  or  less  could  inake  no  dif- 
ference." 

"My  God !  your  highness,  did  I  not  tell  you  that 
the  man  who  saved  your  life  and  honor — who  is 
covered  with  wounds  received  in  your  defense,  and 
almost  dead  from  loss  of  blood,  spilled  that  you 
might  be  saved  from  worse  than  death — is  now 
lying  in  a  rayless  dungeon,  a  place  of  frightful  filth. 


7*ur  not  your  Trust  in  7*rincesses      153 

such  as  you  would  not  walk  across  for  all  the  wealth 
of  London  Bridge;  is  surrounded  by  loathsome, 
creeping  things  that  would  sicken  you  but  to  think 
of;  is  resting  under  a  charge  whose  penalty  is  that 
he  be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered?  And  yet  you 
stop  to  eat  and  bathe  and  dress.  In  God's  name, 
Mary  Tudor,  of  what  stuff  are  you  made?  If  he 
had  waited  but  one  little  minute ;  had  stopped  for 
the  drawing  of  a  breath  ;  had  held  back  for  but  one 
faltering  thought  from  the  terrible  odds  of  four 
swords  to  one,  what  would  you  now  be?  Think, 
princess,  think !" 

I  was  a  little  frightened  at  the  length  to  which 
my  feeling  had  driven  me,  but  Mary  took  it  all  very 
well,  and  said  slowly  and  absent-mindedly : 

"You  are  right ;  I  will  go  at  once ;  I  despise  my 
selfish  neglect.  There  is  no  other  way ;  I  have 
racked  my  brain — there  is  no  other  way.  It  must 
be  done,  and  I  will  go  at  once  and  do  it." 

"And  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  I. 

*T  do  not  blame  you,"  she  said,  "for  doubting  me, 
since  I  have  failed  once;  but  you  need  not  doubt 
me  now.  It  shall  be  done,  and  without  delay,  re- 
gardless of  the  cost  to  me.  I  have  thought  and 
thought  to  find  some  other  way  to  liberate  him,  but 
there  is  none ;  I  will  go  this  instant." 
•fc  "And  I  will  go  with  you,  Lady  Mary,"  said  I, 
doggedly. 

She  smiled  at  my  persistency,  and  took  me  by  the 
hand,  saying,  "Come!" 


154    t^/?en  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flobifer 

We  at  once  went  off  to  find  the  king,  but  the  smile 
had  faded  from  Mary's  face,  and  she  looked  as  if 
she  were  going  to  execution.  Every  shade  of  color 
had  fled,  and  her  lips  were  the  hue  of  ashes. 

We  found  the  king  in  the  midst  of  his  council, 
with  the  French  ambassadors,  discussing  the  all- 
absorbing  topic  of  the  marriage  treaty ;  and  Henry, 
fearing  an  outbreak,  refused  to  see  the  princess. 
As  usual,  opposition  but  spurred  her  determinatiork, 
so  she  sat  down  in  the  ante-room  and  said  she  would 
not  stir  until  she  had  seen  the  king. 

After  we  had  waited  a  few  minutes,  one  of  the 
the  king's  pages  came  up  and  said  he  had  beea 
looking  all  over  the  palace  for  me,  and  that  the 
king  desired  my  presence  immediately.  I  went  in 
with  the  page  to  the  king,  leaving  Mary  alone  and 
very  melancholy  in  the  ante-chamber. 

Upon  entering  the  king's  presence  he  asked, 
"Where  have  you  been,  Sir  Edwin  ?  I  have  almost 
killed  a  good  half-dozen  pages  hunting  you.  I 
,want  you  to  prepare  immediately  to  go  to  Paris 
with  an  embassy  to  his  majesty.  King  Louis. 
You  will  be  the  interpreter.  The  ambassador  you 
need  not  know.  Make  ready  at  once.  The  embassy 
will  leave  London  from  the  Tabard  Inn  one  hour 
hence." 

Could  a  command  to  duty  have  come  at  a  more 
inopportune  time?  I  was  distracted;  and  upon 
leaving  the  king  went  at  once  to  seek  the  Lady 
Marv  where  I  had  left  her  in  the  ante-room.    She 


Tul  not  your  Truest  in  7'r{nce>s^e>s      155 

had  gone,  so  I  went  to  her  apartments,  but  could 
not  find  her.  I  went  to  the  queen's  salon,  but  she 
was  not  there,  and  I  traversed  that  old  rambling 
palace  from  one  end  to  the  other  without  finding  her 
or  Lady  Jane. 

The  king  had  told  me  the  embassy  would  be 
a  secret  one,  and  that  I  was  to  speak  of  it  to  nobody, 
least  of  all  to  the  Lady  Mar)-.  No  one  was  to  know 
that  I  was  leaving  England,  and  I  was  to  communi- 
cate with  no  one  at  home  while  in  France. 

The  king's  command  was  not  to  be  disobeyed; 
to  do  so  would  be  as  much  as  my  life  was  worth, 
but  besides  that,  the  command  of  the  king  I  served 
was  mv  highest  dutv,  and  no  Caskoden  ever  failed 
in  that.  I  may  not  be  as  tall  as  some  men,  but  my 
fidelity  and  honor — but  you  will  say  I  boast. 

I  was  to  make  ready  my  bundle  and  ride  six  miles 
to  London  in  one  hour;  and  almost  half  that  time 
was  spent  already.  I  was  sure  to  be  late,  so  I  could 
not  waste  another  minute. 

I  went  to  my  room  and  got  together  a  few  things 
necessary  for  my  journey,  but  did  not  take  much 
in  the  way  of  clothing,  preferring  to  buy  that  new 
in  Paris,  where  I  could  find  the  latest  styles  in  pat- 
tern and  fabric. 

I  tried  to  assure  myself  that  Mary  would  see  the 
king  at  once  and  tell  him  all,  and  not  allow  my  dear 
friend  Brandon  to  lie  in  that  terrible  place  another 
night;  yet  a  persistent  fear  gnawed  at  my  heart, 
and  a  sort  of  intuition,  that  seemed  to  have  the  very 


156    XOhen  Kjnt^hihood  Wa^  in  Flower 

breath  of  certainty  in  its  foreboding,  made  me  doubt 
her. 

As  I  could  find  neither  Mary  nor  Jane,  I  did  the 
next  best  thing:  I  wrote  a  letter  to  each  of  them, 
urging  immediate  action,  and  left  them  to  be  deliv- 
ered by  my  man  Thomas,  who  was  one  of  those 
trusty  souls  that  never  fail.  I  did  not  tell  the  girls 
I  was  about  to  start  for  France,  but  intimated  that 
I  was  compelled  to  leave  London  for  a  time,  and 
said:  "I  leave  the  fate  of  this  man,  to  whom  we 
all  owe  so  much,  in  your  hands,  knowing  full  well 
how  tender  you  will  be  of  him." 

I  was  away  from  home  nearly  a  month,  and  as  I 
dared  not  write,  and  even  Jane  did  not  know  where 
I  was,  I  did  not  receive,  nor  expect,  any  letters.  The 
king  had  ordered  secrecy,  and  if  I  have  mingled 
with  all  my  faults  a  single  virtue  it  is  that  of  faith- 
fulness to  my  trust.  So  I  had  no  news  from  Eng- 
land and  sent  none  home. 

During  all  that  time  the  same  old  fear  lived  in 
my  heart  that  Mary  might  fail  to  liberate  Brandon. 
She  knew  of  the  negotiations  concerning  the  French 
marriage,  as  we  all  did,  although  only  by  an  indefi- 
nite sort  of  hearsay,  and  I  was  sure  the  half- founded 
rumors  that  had  reached  her  ears  had  long  since 
become  certainties,  and  that  her  heart  was  full  of 
trouble  and  fear  of  her  violent  brother.  She  would 
certainly  be  at  her  coaxing  and  wheedling  again 
and  on  her  best  behavior,  and  I  feared  she  might 
refrain  from  telling  Henry  of  her  trip  to  Grouche's, 


T'at  not  your  Truest  in  T^rincC'S^se't      157 

knowing  how  severe  he  was  in  such  matters  and 
how  furious  he  was  sure  to  become  at  the  discov- 
er}-. I  was  certain  it  was  this  fear  which  had  pre- 
vented Mary  from  going  directly  to  the  king  on  our 
return  to  Greenwich  from  Scotland  Palace,  and  I 
knew  that  her  eating,  bathing  and  dressing  were  but 
an  excuse  for  a  breathing  spell  before  the  dreaded 
interview. 

This  fear  remained  with  me  all  the  time  I  was 
away,  but  when  I  reasoned  with  myself  I  would 
smother  it  as  well  as  I  could  with  argumentative 
attempts  at  self-assurance.  I  would  say  over  and 
over  to  myself  that  Mary  could  not  fail,  and  that 
even  if  she  did,  there  was  Jane,  dear,  sweet,  thought- 
ful, unselfish  Jane,  who  would  not  allow  her  to  do 
so.  But  as  far  as  they  go,  our  intuitions — our  "feel- 
ings," as  v.-e  call  them — are  worth  all  the  logic  in 
the  world,  and  you  may  say  what  you  will,  but  my 
presentiments — I  speak  for  no  one  else — are  well 
to  be  minded.  There  is  another  sense  hidden  about 
us  that  will  develop  as  the  race  grows  older.  I 
speak  to  posterity. 

In  proof  of  this  statement,  I  now  tell  you  that 
when  I  returned  to  London  I  found  Brandon  still 
in  the  terrible  dungeon ;  and,  worse  still,  he  had 
been  tried  for  murder,  and  had  been  condemned  to 
be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered  on  the  second  Fri- 
day following.  Hanged !  Drawn !  Quartered !  It 
is  time  we  were  doing  away  with  such  barbarity. 

We  will  now  go  back  a  month  for  the  purpose  of 


158   XOhen  ILnighlhood  Wa^  in  Flower 

looking  up  the  doings  of  a  friend  of  ours,  his  grace, 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

On  the  morning  after  the  fatal  battle  of  Billings- 
gate, the  barber  who  had  treated  Brandon's  wounds 
had  been  called  to  London  to  dress  a  bruised  knee 
for  his  grace,  the  duke.  In  the  course  of  the  opera- 
tion, an  immense  deal  of  information  oozed  out  of 
the  barber,  one  item  of  which  was  that  he  had  the 
night  before  dressed  nine  wounds,  great  and  small, 
for  Master  Brandon,  the  king's  friend.  This  estab- 
lished the  identity  of  the  man  who  had  rescued  the 
girls,  a  fact  of  which  Buckingham  had  had  his  sus- 
picions all  along.  So  Brandon's  arrest  followed,  as 
I  have  already  related  to  you. 

I  afterward  learned  from  various  sources  how 
this  nobleman  began  to  avenge  his  mishap  with 
Brandon  at  Mary's  ball  when  the  latter  broke  his 
sword  point.  First,  he  went  to  Newgate  and  gave 
orders  to  the  keeper,  who  was  his  tool,  to  allow  no 
communication  with  the  prisoner,  and  it  was  by  his 
instructions  that  Brandon  had  been  confined  in  the 
worst  dungeon  in  London.  Then  he  went  down  to 
Greenwich  to  take  care  of  matters  there,  knowing 
that  the  king  would  learn  of  Brandon's  arrest  and 
probably  take  steps  for  his  liberation  at  once. 

The  king  had  just  heard  of  the  arrest  when  Buck- 
ingham arrived,  and  the  latter  found  he  was  right 
in  his  surmise  that  his  majesty  would  at  once  de- 
mand Brandon's  release. 

When  the  duke  entered  the  king's  room.  Henry 


7*at  not  your  Tru^t  in  7'rince>s>se'i      i59 

called  to  him:  "My  Lord,  you  are  opportunely 
arrived.  So  good  a  friend  of  the  people  of  London 
can  help  us  greatly  this  morning.  Our  friend  Bran- 
don has  been  arrested  for  the  killing  of  two  men 
night  before  last  in  Billingsgate  ward.  I  am  sure 
there  is  some  mistake,  and  that  the  good  sheriff  has 
the  wrong  man ;  but  right  or  wrong,  we  want  him 
out,  and  ask  your  good  offices." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  serve  your  majesty, 
and  will  go  to  London  at  once  to  see  the  lord 
mayor."' 

In  the  afternoon  the  duke  returned  and  had  a  pri- 
\ale  audience  with  the  king. 

"I  did  as  your  majesty  requested  in  regard  to 
Brandon's  release,"  he  said,  "but  on  investigation, 
I  thought  it  best  to  consult  you  again  before  pro 
ceeding  further.  I  fear  there  is  no  doubt  that 
Brandon  is  the  right  man.  It  seems  he  was  out  with 
a  coup'.e  of  wenches  concerning  whom  he  got  into 
trouble  and  stabbed  two  men  in  the  back.  It  is  a 
very  aggravated  case  and  the  citizens  are  much  in- 
censed about  it,  owing  partly  to  the  fact  that  such 
occurrences  have  been  so  frequent  of  late.  I 
thought,  under  the  circumstances,  and  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  your  majesty  will  soon  call  upon  the  city 
for  a  loan  to  make  up  the  Lady  Mary's  dower,  it 
would  be  wise  not  to  antagonize  them  in  this  matter, 
but  to  allow  Master  Brandon  to  remain  quietly  in 
confinement  until  the  loan  is  completed  and  then 
we  can  snap  our  fingers  at  them." 


i6o    ^Se^hen  ^ntghihood  Wa^s  in  Klote/er 

"We  will  snap  our  fingers  at  the  scurvy  burghers 
now  and  have  the  loan,  too,"  returned  Henry, 
angrily.  "I  want  Brandon  liberated  at  once,  and 
I  shall  expect  another  report  from  you  immediately, 
my  lord." 

Buckingham  felt  that  his  revenge  had  slipped 
through  his  fingers  this  time,  but  he  was  patient 
where  evil  was  to  be  accomplished,  and  could  wait. 
Then  it  was  that  the  council  was  called  during  the 
progress  of  which  Mary  and  I  had  tried  to  obtain 
an  audience  of  the  king. 

Buckingham  had  gone  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
queen,  and  on  his  way  back  espied  Mary  waiting 
for  the  king  in  the  ante-room,  and  went  to  her. 

At  first  she  was  irritated  at  the  sight  of  this 
man,  whom  she  so  despised,  but  a  thought  came  to 
her  that  she  might  make  use  of  him.  She  knew  his 
power  with  the  citizens  and  city  authorities  of  Lon- 
don, and  also  knew,  or  thought  she  knew,  that  a 
smile  from  her  could  accomplish  everything  with 
him.  She  had  ample  evidence  of  his  infatuation, 
and  she  hoped  that  she  could  procure  Brandon's  lib- 
erty through  Buckingham  without  revealing  her 
dangerous  secret. 

Much  to  the  duke's  surprise,  she  smiled  upon 
him  and  gave  a  cordial  welcome,  saying :  "My  lord, 
you  have  been  unkind  to  us  of  late  and  have  not 
shown  us  the  light  of  your  countenance.  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  once  more ;  tell  me  the  news." 

"I  cannot  say  there  is  much  of  interest.    I  have 


7*ut  not  your  Trust  in  7*rincesses       i6i 

learned  the  new  dance  from  Caskoden,  if  that  is 
news,  and  hope  for  a  favor  at  our  next  ball  from 
the  fairest  lady  in  the  world." 

"And  quite  welcome,"  returned  Mary,  compla- 
cently appropriating  the  title,  "and  welcome  to  more 
than  one,  I  hope,  my  lord." 

This  graciousness  would  have  looked  suspicious  to 
one  with  less  vanity  than  Buckingham,  but  he  saw 
no  craft  in  it.  He  did  see,  however,  that  ]\Iary  did 
not  know  who  had  attacked  her  in  Billingsgate,  and 
he  felt  greatly  relieved. 

The  duke  smiled  and  smirked,  and  was  enchanted 
at  her  kindness.  They  walked  down  the  corridor, 
talking  and  laughing,  Alary  awaiting  an  opportunity 
to  put  the  important  question  without  exciting  sus- 
picion. At  last  it  came,  when  Buckingham,  half 
inquiringly,  expressed  his  surprise  that  Mary 
should  be  found  sitting  at  the  king's  door. 

"I  am  waiting  to  see  the  king,"  said  she.    "Little 

Caskoden's  friend,  Brandon,  has  been  arrested  for 

a  brawl  of  some  sort  over  in  London,  and  Sir  Edwin 

and  Lady  Jane  have  importuned  me  to  obtain  his 

release,   which   I   have  promised  to  do.     Perhaps 

your  grace  will  allow  me  to  petition  you  in  place  of 

carrying  my  request  to  the  king.    You  are  quite  as 

powerful  as  his  majesty  in  London,  and  I  should 

like  to  ask  you  to  obtain  for  Master  Brandon  his 

liberty  at  once.  I  sliall  hold  myself  infinitely  obliged, 

if  your  lordship  will  do  this  for  me."     She  smiled 

upon  him  her  sweetest  smile,  and  assumed  an  indif- 
u 


i62    tOhen  Kj^ighihood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

ference  that  would  have  deceived  any  one  but  Buck- 
ingham. Upon  him,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was 
worse  than  wasted.  Buckingham  at  once  consented, 
and  said,  that  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  did 
not  like  Brandon,  to  oblige  her  highness,  he  would 
undertake  to  befriend  a  much  more  disagreeable 
person. 

"I  fear,"  he  said,  "it  will  have  to  be  done  secretly 
— by  conniving  at  his  escape  rather  than  by  an  order 
for  his  release.  The  citizens  are  greatly  aroused 
over  the  alarming  frequency  of  such  occurrences, 
and  as  many  of  the  offenders  have  lately  escaped 
punishment  by  reason  of  court  interference,  I  fear 
this  man  Brandon  will  have  to  bear  the  brunt,  in 
the  London  mind,  of  all  these  unpunished  crimes. 
It  will  be  next  to  impossible  to  liberate  him,  except 
by  arranging  privately  with  the  keeper  for  his 
escape.  He  could  go  down  into  the  country  and 
wait  in  seclusion  until  it  is  all  blown  over,  or  until 
London  has  a  new  victim,  and  then  an  order  can 
be  made  pardoning  him,  and  he  can  return." 

"Pardoning  him !  What  are  you  talking  of,  my 
lord?  He  has  done  nothing  to  be  pardoned  for. 
He  should  be,  and  shall  be,  rewarded."  Mary  spoke 
impetuously,  but  caught  herself  and  tried  to  remedy 
her  blunder.  "That  is,  if  I  have  heard  the  straight 
of  it.  I  have  been  told  that  the  killing  was  done  in 
the  defense  of  two — women."  Think  of  this  poor 
unconscious  girl,  so  full  of  grief  and  trouble,  talk- 
ing thus  to  Buckingham,  who  knew  so  much  more 


7*uf  not  your  Truest  in  7*rmce>r'fes      163 

about  the  affair  than  even  she,  who  had  taken  so 
active  a  part  in  it. 

"Who  told  you  of  it?*'  asked  the  duke. 

Mary  saw  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and,  after  hes- 
itating for  a  moment,  answered:  "Sir  Edwin  Cas- 
koden.  He  had  it  from  Master  Brandon,  I  suppose." 
Rather  adroit  this  was,  but  equidistant  from  both 
truth  and  effectiveness. 

"I  will  go  at  once  to  London  and  arrange  for 
Brandon's  escape,"  said  Buckingham,  preparing  to 
leave.  "But  you  must  not  divulge  the  fact  that  I 
do  it.  It  would  cost  me  all  the  favor  I  enjoy  with 
the  people  of  London,  though  I  would  willingly  lose 
that  favor,  a  thousand  times  over,  for  a  smile  from 
you." 

She  gave  the  smile,  and  as  he  left,  followed  his 
retiring  figure  with  her  eyes,  and  thought :  "After 
all,  he  has  a  kind  heart." 

She  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  too,  for  she  felt  she 
had  accomplished  Brandon's  release,  and  still  re- 
tained her  dangerous  secret,  the  divulging  of  which, 
she  feared,  would  harden  Henry's  heart  against  her 
blandishments  and  strand  her  upon  the  throne  of 
France. 

But  she  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  the  ar- 
rangement. She  knev\'  that  her  obligation  to  Bran- 
don was  such  as  to  demand  of  her  that  she  should 
not  leave  the  matter  of  his  release  to  any  other 
person,  much  less  to  an  enemy  such  as  Bucking- 
ham.   Yet  the  cost  of  his  freedom  by  a  direct  act  of 


i64   XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wcw  in  FloWep 

her  own  would  be  so  great  that  she  was  tempted 
to  take  whatever  risk  there  might  be  in  the  way 
that  had  opened  itself  to  her.  Not  that  she  would 
not  have  made  the  sacrifice  willingly,  or  would  not 
have  told  Henry  all  if  that  were  the  only  chance  to 
save  Brandon's  life,  but  the  other  way,  the  one  she 
had  taken  by  Buckingham's  help,  seemed  safe,  and, 
though  not  entirely  satisfying,  she  could  not  see 
how  it  could  miscarry.  Buckingham  was  notably 
jealous  of  his  knightly  word,  and  she  had 
unbounded  faith  in  her  influence  over  him.  In 
short,  like  many  another  person,  she  was  as  wrong 
as  possible  just  at  the  time  when  she  thought  she 
was  entirely  right,  and  when  the  cost  of  a  mistake 
was  at  its  maximum. 

She  recoiled  also  from  the  thought  of  Brandon's 
"escape,"  and  it  hurt  her  that  he  should  be  a  fugitive 
from  the  justice  that  should  reward  him,  yet  she 
quieted  these  disturbing  suggestions  with  the 
thought  that  it  would  be  only  for  a  short  time,  and 
Brandon,  she  knew,  would  be  only  too  glad  to  make 
the  sacrifice  if  it  purchased  for  her  freedom  from 
the  worse  than  damnation  that  lurked  in  the  French 
marriage. 

All  this  ran  quickly  through  Mary's  mind,  and 
brought  relief ;  but  it  did  not  cure  the  uneasy  sense, 
weighing  like  lead  upon  her  heart,  that  she  should 
take  no  chance  with  this  man's  life,  and  should  put 
no  further  weight  of  sacrifice  upon  him,  but  should 
go  to  the  king  and  tell  him  a  straightforward  story, 


7*a/  not  your  Truest  in  T^rinces^es      165 

let  it  hurt  where  it  would.  With  a  Httle  meditation, 
however,  came  a  thought  which  decided  the  ques- 
tion and  absohitely  made  everything  bright  again 
for  her,  so  great  was  her  capability  for  distilling 
light.  She  would  go  at  once  to  Windsor  with  Jane, 
and  would  dispatch  a  note  to  Brandon,  at  Newgate, 
telling  him  upon  his  escape  to  come  to  her.  He 
might  remain  in  hiding  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Windsor,  and  she  could  see  him  every  day.  The 
time  had  come  to  Mary  when  to  "see  him  every 
day"  would  turn  Plutonian  shades  into  noonday 
brightness  and  weave  sunbeams  out  of  utter  dark- 
ness. With  Mary,  to  resolve  was  to  act;  so  the 
note  was  soon  dispatched  by  a  page,  and  one  hour 
later  the  girls  were  on  their  road  to  Windsor. 

Buckingham  went  to  Newgate,  expecting  to  make 
a  virtue,  with  Mary,  out  of  the  necessity  imposed 
by  the  king's  command,  in  freeing  Brandon.  He 
had  hoped  to  induce  Brandon  to  leave  London 
stealthily  and  immediately,  by  representing  to  him 
the  evil  consequences  of  a  break  between  the  citizens 
and  the  king,  liable  to  grow  out  of  his  release,  and 
relied  on  Brandon's  generosity  to  help  him  out ;  but 
when  he  found  the  note  which  Mary's  page  had  de- 
livered to  the  keeper  of  Newgate,  he  read  it  and  all 
his  plans  were  changed. 

He  caused  the  keeper  to  send  the  note  to  the  king, 
suppressing  the  fact  that  he,  Buckingham,  had  any 
knowledge  of  it.  The  duke  then  at  once  started  to 
Greenwich,  where  he  arrived  and  sought  the  king 


i66    *When  Kj\ighlhood  Was  in  Flotver 

a  few  minutes  before  the  time  he  knew  the  messen- 
ger with  Mary's  note  would  come.  The  king  was 
soon  found,  and  Buckingham,  in  apparent  anger, 
told  him  that  the  city  authorities  refused  to  dehver 
Brandon  except  upon  an  order  under  the  king's 
seal. 

Henry  and  Buckingham  were  intensely  indignant 
at  the  conduct  of  the  scurvy  burghers,  and  an  im- 
mense amount  of  self-importance  was  displayed  and 
shamefully  wasted.  This  manifestation  was  at  its 
highest  when  the  messenger  from  Newgate  arrived 
with  Mary's  poor  little  note  as  intended  by  the  duke. 

The  note  was  handed  to  Henry,  who  read  aloud 
as  follows: 

"To  Master  Charles  Brandon: 

"Greeting — Soon  you  will  be  at  liberty ;  perhaps 
ere  this  is  to  your  hand.  Surely  would  I  not  leave 
you  long  in  prison.  I  go  to  Windsor  at  once,  there 
to  live  in  the  hope  that  I  may  see  you  speedily. 

"MARY." 

"What  is  this  ?"  cried  Henry.  "My  sister  writing 
to  Brandon  ?  God's  death !  My  Lord  of  Bucking- 
ham, the  suspicions  you  whispered  in  my  ear  may 
have  some  truth.  We  will  let  this  fellow  remain  in 
Newgate,  and  allow  our  good  people  of  London  to 
take  their  own  course  with  him." 

Buckingham  went  to  Windsor  next  day  and  told 
Mary  that  arrangements  had  been  made  the  night 


^ut  not  your  Tru^t  in  Vrinces^es       167 

before  for  Brandon's  escape,  and  that  he  had  heard 
that  Brandon  had  left  for  New  Spain. 

Mary  thanked  the  duke,  but  had  no  smiles  for 
any  one.    Her  supply  was  exhausted. 

She  remained  at  Windsor  nursing  her  love  for 
the  sake  of  the  very  pain  it  brought  her,  and  dread- 
ing the  battle  for  more  than  life  itself  which  she 
knew  she  should  soon  be  called  upon  to  fight. 

At  times  she  would  fall  into  one  of  her  old  fits 
of  anger  because  Brandon  had  not  come  to  see  her 
before  he  left,  but  soon  the  anger  melted  into  tears, 
and  the  tears  brought  a  sort  of  joy  when  she  thought 
that  he  had  run  away  from  her  because  he  loved  her. 
After  Brandon's  defense  of  her  in  Billingsgate, 
Mary  had  begun  to  see  the  whole  situation  differ- 
ently, and  everything  was  changed.  She  still  saw 
the  same  great  distance  between  them  as  before,  but 
with  this  difference,  she  was  looking  up  now.  Be- 
fore that  event  he  had  been  plain  Charles  Brandon, 
and  she  the  Princess  Mary.  She  was  the  princess 
still,  but  he  was  a  demi-god.  No  mere  mortal, 
thought  she,  could  be  so  brave  and  strong  and  gen- 
erous and  wise ;  and  above  all,  no  mere  mortal  could 
vanquish  odds  of  four  to  one.  In  the  night  she 
would  lie  on  Jane's  arm,  and  amid  smothered  sobs, 
would  softly  talk  of  her  lover,  and  praise  his  beauty 
and  perfections,  and  pour  her  pathetic  little  tale  over 
and  over  again  into  Jane's  receptive  ear  and  warm 
responsive  heart ;  and  Jane  answered  with  soft  little 
kisses   that    would    have    consoled    Niobe   herself. 


ley   XOhen  Kxiighthood  Wa>s  in  rioiver 

Then  Mary  would  tell  how  the  doors  of  her  life,  at 
the  ripe  age  of  eighteen,  were  closed  forever  and 
forever,  and  that  her  few  remaining  years  would  be 
but  years  of  waiting  for  the  end.  At  other  times 
she  would  brighten,  and  repeat  what  Brandon  had 
told  her  about  New  Spain ;  how  fortune's  door  was 
open  there  to  those  who  chose  to  come,  and  how  he, 
the  best  and  bravest  of  them  all,  would  surely  win 
glory  and  fortune,  and  then  return  to  buy  her  from 
her  brother  Henry  with  millions  of  pounds  of  yel- 
low gold.  Ah,  she  would  wait!  She  would  wait! 
Like  Bayard  she  placed  her  ransom  at  a  high  figure, 
and  honestly  thought  herself  worth  it.  And  so  she 
was — 'lO  Brandon,  or  rather  had  been.  But  at  this 
particular  time  the  market  was  down,  as  you  will 
shortly  hear. 

So  Mary  remained  at  Windsor  and  grieved  and 
wept  and  dreamed,  and  longed  that  she  might  see 
across  the  miles  of  billowy  ocean  to  her  love!  her 
love !  her  love !  Meanwhile  Brandon  had  his  trial 
in  secret  down  in  London,  and  had  been  condemned 
to  be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered  for  having  saved 
to  her  more  than  life  itself. 

Put  not  your  trust  in  princesses ! 


CHATTEK.  X 

Justice,  O  K.mg! 

SUCH  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  I  returned 
from  France. 

How  I  hated  myself  because  I  had  not 
faced  the  king's  displeasure  and  had  not  refused  to 
%o  until  Brandon  was  safely  out  of  his  trouble.  It 
was  hard  for  me  to  believe  that  I  had  left  such  a 
matter  to  two  foolish  girls,  one  of  them  as  change- 
able as  the  wind,  and  the  other  completely  under  her 
control.  I  could  but  think  of  the  difference  between 
myself  and  Brandon,  and  well  knew,  had  I  been  in 
his  place,  he  would  have  liberated  me  or  stormed 
the  very  walls  of  London  single-handed  and  alone. 

When  I  learned  that  Brandon  had  been  in  that 
dungeon  all  that  long  month,  I  felt  that  it  would 
surely  kill  him,  and  my  self-accusation  was  so 
strong  and  bitter,  and  my  mental  pain  so  great,  that 
I  resolved  if  my  friend  died,  either  by  disease  con- 
tracted in  the  dungeon  or  by  execution  of  his  sen- 
tence, that  I  would  kill  myself.  But  that  is  a  matter 
much  easier  sincerely  to  resolve  upon  than  to  exe- 
cute when  the  time  comes. 

Next  to  myself,  I  condemned  those  wretched  girls 
for  leaving  Brandon  to  perish — Brandon,  to  whom 
they  both  owed  so  much.  Their  selfishness  turned 
me  against  all  womankind. 

(169) 


170   XOhen  Kjntghthood  Wa4!  in  Flower 

I  did  not  dally  this  time.  I  trusted  to  no  Lady 
Jane  nor  Lady  Mary.  I  determined  to  go  to  the 
king  at  once  and  tell  him  all.  I  did  not  care  if  the 
wretched  Mary  and  Jane  both  had  to  marry  the 
French  king,  or  the  devil  himself.  I  did  not  care 
if  they  and  all  the  host  of  their  perfidious  sisterhood 
went  to  the  nether  side  of  the  universe,  there  to  re- 
main forever.  I  would  retrieve  my  fault,  in  so  far 
as  it  was  retrievable,  and  save  Brandon,  who  was 
worth  them  all  put  together.  I  would  tell  Mary  and 
Jane  what  I  thought  of  them,  and  that  should  end 
matters  between  us.  I  felt  as  I  did  toward  them  not 
only  because  of  their  treatment  of  Brandon,  but 
because  they  had  made  me  guilty  of  a  grievous  fault, 
for  which  I  should  never,  so  long  as  I  lived,  for- 
give myself.  I  determined  to  go  to  the  king,  and 
go  I  did  within  five  minutes  of  the  time  I  heard  that 
Brandon  was  yet  in  prison. 

I  found  the  king  sitting  alone  at  public  dinner, 
and,  of  course,  was  denied  speech  with  him.  I  was 
in  no  humor  to  be  balked,  so  I  thrust  aside  the 
guards,  and,  much  to  everybody's  fright,  for  I  was 
wild  with  grief,  rage  and  despair,  and  showed  it  in 
every  feature,  rushed  to  the  king  and  fell  upon  my 
knees  at  his  feet. 

"Justice,  O  king!"  I  cried,  and  all  the  courtiers 
heard.  "Justice,  O  king!  for  the  worst  used  man 
and  the  bravest,  truest  soul  that  ever  lived  and  suf- 
fered." Here  the  tears  began  to  stream  down  my 
face  and  my  voice  choked  in  my  throat.    "Charles 


Justice,  O  K.tn^!  171 

Brandon,  your  majesty's  one-time  friend,  lies  in  a 
loathsome,  rayless  dungeon,  condemned  to  death, 
as  your  majesty  may  know,  for  the  kilHng  of  two 
men  in  BilHngsgate  Ward.  I  will  tell  you  all :  I 
should  be  thrust  out  from  the  society  of  decent  men 
for  not  having  told  you  before  I  left  for  France,  but 
I  trusted  it  to  another  who  has  proved  false.  I  will 
tell  you  all.  Your  sister,  the  Lady  Mary,  and  Lady 
Jane  Bolingbroke  were  returning  alone,  after  dark, 
from  a  visit  to  the  soothsayer  Grouche,  of  whom 
your  majesty  has  heard.  I  had  been  notified  of  the 
Lady  Mar\''s  intended  visit  to  him,  although  she 
had  enjoined  absolute  secrecy  upon  my  informant. 
I  could  not  go,  being  detained  upon  your  majesty's 
service — it  was  the  night  of  the  ball  to  the  ambas- 
sadors— and  I  asked  Brandon  to  follow  them,  which 
he  did,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  princess. 
Upon  returning,  the  ladies  were  attacked  by  four 
ruffians,  and  would  have  met  with  worse  than  death 
had  not  the  bravest  heart  and  the  best  sword  in 
England  defended  them  victoriously  against  such 
fearful  odds.  He  left  them  at  Bridewell  without 
hurt  or  injury,  though  covered  with  wounds  him- 
self. This  man  is  condemned  to  be  hanged,  drawn 
and  quartered,  but  I  know-  not  your  majesty's  heart 
if  he  be  not  at  once  reprieved  and  richly  rewarded. 
Think,  my  king!  He  saved  the  royal  honor  of  your 
sister,  who  is  so  dear  to  you,  and  has  suffered  so 
terribly  for  his  loyalty  and  bravery.  The  day  I  left 
so  hurriedly  for  France  the  Lady  Mary  promised 


172   "When  Kjiighihood  Wa>s  in  FloUfw 

she  would  tell  you  all  and  liberate  this  man  who  had 
so  nobly  served  her;  but  she  is  a  woman,  and  was 
born  to  betray." 

The  king  laughed  a  little  at  my  vehemence. 

"What  is  this  you  are  telling  me,  Sir  Edwin?  I 
know  of  Brandon's  death  sentence,  but  much  as  I 
regret  it,  I  cannot  interfere  with  the  justice  of  our 
good  people  of  London  for  the  murder  of  two 
knights  in  their  streets.  If  Brandon  committed 
such  a  crime,  and,  I  understand  he  does  not  deny  it, 
I  cannot  help  him,  however  much  I  should  like  to 
do  so.  But  this  nonsense  about  my  sister !  It  can- 
not be  true.  It  must  be  trumped  up  out  of  your  love 
in  order  to  save  your  friend.  Have  a  care,  good 
master,  how  you  say  such  a  thing.  If  it  were  true, 
would  not  Brandon  have  told  it  at  his  trial  ?" 

"It  is  as  true  as  that  God  lives,  my  king !  If  the 
Lady  Mary  and  Lady  Jane  do  not  bear  me  out  in 
every  word  I  have  said,  let  my  life  pay  the  forfeit. 
He  would  not  tell  of  the  great  reason  for  killing  the 
men,  fearing  to  compromise  the  honor  of  those 
whom  he  had  saved,  for,  as  your  majesty  is  aware, 
persons  sometimes  go  to  Grouche's  for  purposes 
other  than  to  listen  to  his  soothsaying.  Not  in  this 
case,  God  knows,  but  there  are  slanderous  tongues, 
and  Brandon  was  willing  to  die  with  closed  lips, 
rather  than  set  them  wagging  against  one  so  dear  to 
you.  It  seems  that  these  ladies,  who  owe  so  much  to 
him,  are  also  willing  that  he  should  die  rather  than 
themselves  bear  the  consequences  of  their  own  follyJ 


Justice,  O  K^ingl  iZ3 

Do  not  delay,  I  beseech  your  majesty.  Eat  not  an- 
other morsel,  I  pray  you,  until  this  brave  man,  who 
has  so  truly  served  you,  be  taken  from  his  prison 
and  freed  from  his  sentence  of  death.  Come,  come, 
my  king!  this  moment,  and  all  that  I  have,  my 
wealth,  my  life,  my  honor,  are  yours  for  all  time." 

The  king  remained  a  moment  in  thought  with 
knife  in  hand. 

"Caskoden,  I  have  never  detected  you  in  a  lie  in 
all  the  years  I  have  known  you ;  you  are  not  very 
large  in  body,  but  your  honor  is  great  enough  to 
stock  a  Goliath.  I  believe  you  axe  telling  the  truth. 
I  will  go  at  once  to  liberate  Brandon ;  and  that 
little  hussy,  my  sister,  shall  go  to  France  and  enjoy 
life  as  best  she  can  with  her  old  beauty,  King  Louis. 
I  know  of  no  greater  punishment  to  inflict  upon  her. 
This  determines  me ;  she  shall  coax  me  out  of  it 
no  longer.  Sir  Thomas  Brandon,  have  my  horses 
ready,  and  I  will  go  to  the  lord  mayor,  then  to  my 
lord  bishop  of  Lincoln  and  arrange  to  close  this 
French  treaty  at  once.  Let  everybody  know  that 
the  Princess  Mary  will,  within  the  month,  be  queen 
of  France."  This  was  said  to  the  courtiers,  and  was 
all  over  London  before  night. 

I  followed  closely  in  the  wake  of  the  king,  though 
uninvited,  for  I  had  determined  to  trust  to  no  one, 
not  even  his  majesty,  until  Brandon  should  be  free. 
Henry  had  said  he  would  go  first  to  the  lord  mayor 
and  then  to  Wolsey,  but  after  we  crossed  the  Bridge 
he  passed  down  Lower  Thames  street  and  turned  up 


1174   XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  Flower 

Fish-street  Hill  into  Grace  Church  street  on  toward 
Bishopsgate.  He  said  he  would  stop  at  Mistress 
Cornwallis's  and  have  a  pudding;  and  then  on  to 
Wolsey,  who  at  that  time  lodged  in  a  house  near  the 
wall  beyond  Bishopsgate. 

I  well  knew  if  the  king  once  reached  Wolsey 's,  it 
would  be  wine  and  quoits  and  other  games,  inter- 
spersed now  and  then  with  a  little  blustering  talk  on 
statecraft,  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Then  the  good 
bishop  would  have  in  a  few  pretty  London  women 
and  a  dance  would  follow  with  wine  and  cards  and 
dice,  and  Henry  would  spend  the  night  at  Wolsey's, 
3nd  Brandon  lie  another  night  in  the  mire  of  his 
Newgate  dungeon. 

I  resolved  to  raise  heaven  and  earth,  and  the 
other  place,  too,  if  necessary,  before  this  should  hap- 
pen. So  I  rode  boldly  up  to  the  king,  and  with  un- 
covered head  addressed  him :  "Your  majesty  gave 
me  your  royal  word  that  you  would  go  to  the  lordi 
mayor  first,  and  this  is  the  road  to  my  lord  bishop 
of  Lincoln.  In  all  the  years  I  have  known  your 
majesty,  both  as  gallant  prince  and  puissant  king, 
this  is  the  first  request  I  ever  proffered,  and  now  Ii 
only  ask  of  you  to  save  your  own  noble  honor,  and 
do  your  duty  as  man  and  king." 

These  were  bold  words,  but  I  did  not  care  one 
little  farthing  whether  they  pleased  him  or  not. 
The  king  stared  at  me  and  said : 

"Caskoden,  you  are  a  perfect  hound  at  my  heels. 
IBut  you  are  right ;  I  had  forgotten  my  errand.  You 


Jujttcei  O  K.ir\k'I  175 

disturbed  my  dinner,  and  my  stomach  called  loiully 
for  one  of  Mistress  Cornwallis's  puddings  ;  but  you 
are  right  to  e  tick  to  me.  What  a  friend  you  are  in 
case  of  need.    Would  I  had  one  Hke  you." 

"Your  majesty  has  two  of  whom  I  know ;  one 
riding  humbly  by  your  royal  side,  and  the  other 
lying  in  the  worst  dungeon  in  Christendom." 

With  this  the  king  wheeled  about  and  started 
west  toward  Guildhall. 

Oh,  how  I  hated  Henry  for  th^t  cold-blooded, 
selfish  forgetfulness  worse  than  crime ;  and  how  I 
hoped  the  Blessed  Virgin  would  forget  him  in  time 
to  come,  and  leave  his  soul  an  extra  thousand  years 
in  purging  flames,  just  to  show  him  how  it  goes  to 
be  forgotten — in  hell. 

To  the  lord  mayor  we  accordingly  went  without 
further  delay.  He  was  only  too  glad  to  liberate 
Brandon  when  he  heard  my  story,  which  the  king 
had  ordered  me  to  repeat.  The  only  hesitancy  was 
from  a  doubt  of  its  truth. 

The  lord  mayor  was  kind  enough  to  say  that  he 
felt  little  doubt  of  my  word,  but  that  friendship 
would  often  drive  a  man  to  any  extremity,  even 
falsehood,  to  save  a  friend. 

Then  I  offered  to  go  into  custody  myself  and  pay^ 
the  penalty,  death,  for  helping  a  convicted  felon  to 
escape,  if  I  told  not  the  truth,  to  be  confirmed  oc 
denied  by  the  princess  and  her  first  lady  in  waiting. 
I  knew  Jane  and  was  willing  to  risk  her  truthfulness 
without  a  doubt — it  was  so  pronounced  as  to  be 


176   Xi^hen  Kjii^hthood  Wa>s  in  Floke^er 

troublesome  at  times — and  as  to  Mary — well,  I  had 
no  doubt  of  her,  either.  If  she  would  but  stop  to 
think  out  the  r::jht  she  was  sure  to  do  it. 

I  hav2  often  wondered  how  much  of  the  general 
fund  of  evil  in  this  world  comes  from  thoughtless- ' 
ness.     Cultivate  thought  and  you  make  virtue — I 
believe.    But  this  is  no  time  to  philosophize. 

My  offer  was  satisfactory,  for  what  more  can  a 
man  do  than  pledge  his  life  for  his  friend?  We 
have  scripture  for  that,  or  something  like  it. 

The  lord  mayor  did  not  require  my  proffered 
pledge,  but  readily  consented  that  the  king  should 
write  an  order  for  Brandon's  pardon  and  release. 
This  was  done  at  once,  and  we,  that  is,  I,  together 
with  a  sheriff's  sergeant  and  his  four  yeomen,  has- 
tened to  Newgate,  while  Henry  went  over  to  Wol- 
sey's  to  settle  Mary's  fate. 

Brandon  was  brought  up  with  chains  and 
manacles  at  his  ankles  and  wrists.  When  he  entered 
the  room  and  saw  me,  he  exclaimed :  "Ah !  Casko- 
den,  is  that  you?  I  thought  they  had  brought  me 
up  to  hang  me,  and  was  glad  for  the  change;  but 
I  suppose  you  would  not  come  to  help  at  that,  even 
if  you  have  left  me  here  to  rot;  God  only  knows 
how  long;   I  have  forgotten." 

I  could  not  restrain  the  tears  at  sight  of  him. 

"Your  words  are  more  than  just,"  I  said;  and, 
being  anxious  that  he  should  know  at  once  that  my 
fault  had  not  been  so  great  as  it  looked,  continued 
hurriedly;    "The  king  sent  me  to  France  upon  an 


Justice,  O  K,ing!  177. 

hour's  notice,  the  day  after  your  arrest.  I  know 
only  too  well  I  should  not  have  gone  without  seeing 
you  out  of  this,  but  you  had  enjoined  silence  upon 
me,  and — and  I  trusted  to  the  promises  of  another." 

"I  thought  as  much.  You  are  in  no  way  to  blame, 
my  friend ;  all  I  ask  is  that  you  never  mention  the 
subject  again." 

"My  friend!"  Ah!  the  words  were  dear  to  me 
as  words  of  love  from  a  sweetheart's  lips. 

I  hardly  recognized  him,  he  was  so  frightfully 
covered  with  filth  and  dirt  and  creeping  things. 
His  hair  and  beard  were  unkempt  and  matted,  and 
his  eyes  and  cheeks  were  lusterless  and  sunken ;  but 
I  will  describe  him  no  further.  Suffering  had  well- 
nigh  done  its  work,  and  nothing  but  the  hardihood 
gathered  in  his  years  of  camp  life  and  wai^  could 
have  saved  him  from  death.  I  bathed  and  reclothed 
him  as  well  as  I  could  at  Newgate,  and  then  took 
him  home  to  Greenwich  in  a  horse  litter,  where  my 
man  and  I  thoroughly  washed,  dressed  and  sheared 
the  poor  fellow  and  put  him  to  bed. 

"Ah !  this  bed  is  a  foretaste  of  paradise,"  he  said, 
as  he  lay  upon  the  mattress. 

It  was  a  pitiful  sight,  and  I  could  hardly  refrain 
from  tears.  I  sent  my  man  to  fetch  a  certain  Moor, 
a  learned  scholar,  though  a  hated  foreigner,  who 
lived  just  off  Cheap  and  sold  small  arms,  and  very 
soon  he  was  with  us.  Brandon  and  I  both  knew 
him  well,  and  admired  his  learning  and  gentleness, 
and  loved  him  for  his  sweet  philosophy  of  life,  the 


578   to  hen  Kjitghthood  Wa^  in  Flotuer 

leaven  of  which  was  charity — a  modest  little  plant 
too  often  overshadowed  by  the  rank  growth  of 
pompous  dogmatism. 

The  Moor  was  learned  in  the  healing  potions  of 
the  east,  and  insisted,  privately,  of  course,  that  all 
the  shrines  and  relics  in  Christendom  put  together 
could  not  cure  an  ache  in  a  baby's  little  finger. 
This,  perhaps,  was  going  too  far,  for  there  are  some 
relics  that  have  undoubted  potency,  but  in  cases 
where  human  agency  can  cure,  the  people  of  the 
east  are  unquestionably  far  in  advance  of  us  in 
knowledge  of  remedies.  The  Moor  at  once  gave 
Brandon  a  soothing  drink,  which  soon  put  him  into 
a  sweet  sleep.  He  then  bathed  him  as  he  slept,  with 
some  strengthening  lotion,  made  certain  learned 
signs,  and  spoke  a  few  cabalistic  words,  and,  sure 
enough,  so  strong  were  the  healing  remedies  and  in- 
cantations that  the  next  morning  Brandon  was  an- 
other man,  though  very  far  from  well  and  strong. 
The  Moor  recommended  nutritious  food,  such  as 
roast  beef  and  generous  wine,  and,  although  this  ad- 
vice was  contrary  to  the  general  belief,  which  is, 
with  apparent  reason,  that  the  evil  spirit  of  disease 
should  be  starved  and  driven  out,  yet  so  great  was 
our  faith  in  him  that  we  followed  his  directions,  and 
in  a  few  days  Brandon  had  almost  regained  his  old- 
time  strength. 

I  will  ask  you  to  go  back  with  me  for  a  moment. 

During  the  week,  between  Brandon's  interview 
with   Mary   in  the  ante-room  of  the  king's  bed* 


Justice,  O  K^ing!  179 

chamber  and  the  tragedy  at  Billingsgate,  he  and  I 
had  many  conversations  about  the  extraordinary 
situation  in  which  he  found  himself. 

At  one  time,  I  remember,  he  said:  '*I  was  safe 
enough  before  that  afternoon.  I  believe  I  could 
have  gone  away  and  forgotten  her  eventually,  but 
our  mutual  avowal  seems  to  have  dazed  me  and 
paralyzed  every  power  for  effort.  I  sometimes  feel 
helpless,  and,  although  I  have  succeeded  in  keeping 
away  from  her  since  then,  I  often  find  myself  waver- 
ing in  my  determination  to  leave  England.  That 
was  what  I  feared  if  I  allowed  the  matter  to  go  to 
the  point  of  being  sure  of  her  love.  I  only  wanted 
it  before,  and  very  easily  made  myself  believe  it  was 
impossible,  and  not  for  me.  But  now  that  I  know- 
she  loves  me  it  is  like  holding  my  breath  to  live 
without  her.  I  feel  every  instant  that  I  can  hold  it 
no  longer.  I  know  only  too  well  that  if  I  but  see 
her  face  once  more  I  shall  breathe.  She  is  the  very 
breath  of  life  for  me.  She  is  mine  by  the  gift  of 
God.  Curses  upon  those  who  keep  us  apart."  Then 
musingly  and  half  interrogatively:  "She  certainly 
does  love  me.  She  could  not  have  treated  me  as  she 
did  unless  her  love  was  so  strong  that  she  could  not 
resist  it." 

"Let  no  doubt  of  that  trouble  you,"  I  answered. 
"A  woman  like  Mary  cannot  treat  two  men  as  she 
treated  you.  Many  a  woman  may  love,  or  think  she 
loves  many  times,  but  there  is  only  one  man  who 
receives  the  full  measure  of  her  best.    Other  women, 


I550   XUhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  rioter 

again,  have  nothing  to  give  but  their  best,  and  when 
they  have  once  given  that,  they  have  given  all.  Un- 
less I  have  known  her  in  vain,  Mary,  with  all  her 
faults,  is  such  a  woman.  Again  I  say,  let  no  doubt 
of  that  trouble  you." 

Brandon  answered  with  a  sad  little  smile  from 
the  midst  of  his  reverie.  "It  is  really  not  so  much 
the  doubt  as  the  certainty  of  it  that  troubles  me." 
Then,  starting  to  his  feet :  "If  I  thought  she  had 
lied  to  me;  if  I  thought  she  could  wantonly  lead 
me  on  to  suffer  so  for  her,  I  would  kill  her,  so  help 
me  God." 

"Do  not  think  that.  Whatever  her  faults,  and  she 
has  enough,  there  is  no  man  on  earth  for  her  but 
you.  Her  love  has  come  to  her  through  a  struggle 
against  it  because  it  was  her  master.  That  is  the 
strongest  and  best,  in  fact  the  only,  love ;  worth  all 
the  self-made  passions  in  the  world." 

"Yes,  I  believe  it.  I  know  she  has  faults ;  even 
my  partiality  cannot  blind  me  to  them,  but  she  is  as 
pure  and  chaste  as  a  child,  and  as  gentle,  strong  and 
true  as — as — a  woman.  I  can  put  it  no  stronger. 
She  has  these,  her  redeeming  virtues,  along  with  her 
beauty,  from  her  plebeian  grandmother,  Elizabeth 
Woodville,  who,  with  them,  won  a  royal  husband 
and  elevated  herself  to  the  throne  beside  the  chival- 
rous Edward.  This  sweet  plebeian  heritage  bubbles 
up  in  the  heart  of  Mary,  and  will  not  down,  but 
neutralizes  the  royal  poison  in  her  veins  and  makes 
a  goddess  of  her."    Then  with  a  sigh :  "But  if  her 


Justice,  O  Kin^l  i8l 

faults  were  a  thousand  times  as  many,  and  if  each 
fault  were  a  thousand  times  as  great,  her  beauty 
would  atone  for  all.  Such  beauty  as  hers  can  afford 
to  have  faults.  Look  at  Helen  and  Cleopatra, 
and  Agnes  Sorel.  Did  their  faults  make  them  less 
attractive  ?  Beauty  covereth  more  sins  than  charity 
— and  maketh  more  grief  than  pestilence." 

The  last  clause  was  evidently  an  afterthought. 

After  his  month  in  Newgate  with  the  hangman's 
noose  about  his  neck  all  because  of  Mar>''s  cruel 
neglect,  I  wondered  if  her  beauty  would  so  easily 
atone  for  her  faults.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that 
he  changed  his  mind  concerning  this  particular  doc- 
trine of  atonement. 


CHATTE'R  XI 

Lotth  JCII  a,  Suitor 

AS  soon  as  I  could  leave  Brandon,  I  had  intended 
to  go  down  to  Windsor  and  give  vent  to  my 
indignation  toward  the  girls,  but  the  more  I 
thought  about  it,  the  surer  I  felt  there  had,  some- 
how, been  a  mistake.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
believe  that  Mary  had  deliberately  permitted  mat- 
ters to  go  to  such  an  extreme  when  it  was  in  her 
power  to  prevent  it.  She  might  have  neglected  her 
duty  for  a  day  or  two,  but,  sooner  or  later,  her  good 
impulses  always  came  to  her  rescue,  and,  with  Jane 
by  her  side  to  urge  her  on,  I  was  almost  sure  she 
would  have  liberated  Brandon  long  ago — barring  a 
blunder  of  some  sort. 

So  I  did  not  go  to  Windsor  until  a  week  after 
Brandon's  release,  when  the  king  asked  me  to  go 
down  with  him,  Wolsey  and  de  Longueville,  the 
French  ambassador-special,  for  the  purpose  of  offi- 
cially offering  to  Mary  the  hand  of  Louis  XII,  and 
the  honor  of  becoming  queen  of  France. 

The  princess  had  known  of  the  projected  arrange- 
ment for  m.any  weeks,  but  had  no  thought  of  the 
present  forward  condition  of  affairs,  or  she  would 
have  brought  her  energies  to  bear  upon  Henry  long 
before.    She  could  not  bring  herself  to  believe  tiiat 

her  brother  would  really  force  her  into  such  wretch- 

(182) 


t^oiti^  2CII  a  Suitor  183 

edness,  and  possibly  he  would  never  Have  'done  so, 
much  as  he  desired  it  from  the  standpoint  of  per- 
sonal ambition,  had  it  not  been  for  the  petty  excuse 
of  that  fatal  trip  to  Grouche's. 

All  the  circumstances  of  the  case  were  such  as  to 
make  Mary's  marriage  a  veritable  virgin  sacrifice. 
Louis  was  an  old  man,  and  an  old  Frenchman  at 
that;  full  of  French  notions  of  morality  and  im- 
morality; and  besides,  there  were  objections  that 
cannot  be  written,  but  of  which  Henry  and  Mary 
had  been  fully  informed.  She  might  as  well 
marry  a  leper.  Do  you  wonder  she  was  full  of 
dread  and  fear,  and  resisted  with  the  desperation 
of  death? 

So  Mary,  the  person  most  interested,  was 
about  the  last  to  learn  that  the  treaty  had  been 
signed. 

Windsor  was  nearly  eight  leagues  from  London, 
and  at  that  time  was  occupied  only  by  the  girls  and 
a  few  old  ladies  and  servants,  so  that  news  did  not 
travel  fast  in  that  direction  from  the  city.  It  is  also 
probable  that,  even  if  the  report  of  the  treaty  and 
Brandon's  release  had  reached  Windsor,  the  per- 
sons hearing  it  would  have  hesitated  to  repeat  it  to 
Mary.  However  that  may  be,  she  had  no  knowledge 
of  either  until  she  was  informed  of  the  fact  that  the 
king  and  the  French  ambassador  would  be  at  Wind- 
sor on  a  certain  day  to  make  the  formal  request  for 
her  haml  and  to  offer  the  gifts  of  King  Louis. 

I  had  no  doubt  Mary  was  in  trouble,  and  felt  sure 


i«4  TXJhen  Kjiighihood  Was  in  t^lobtfer 

she  had  been  making  affairs  lively  about  her.     I 
knew  her  suffering  was  keen,  but  was  glad  of  it  In  ' 
view  of  her  treatment  of  Brandon. 

A  day  or  two  after  Brandon's  liberation  I  had 
begun  to  speak  to  him  of  the  girls,  but  he  inter- 
rupted me  with  a  frightful  oath:  "Caskoden,  you 
are  my  friend,  but  if  you  ever  mention  their  names 
again  in  my  hearing  you  are  my  friend  no  longer. 
I  will  curse  you." 

I  was  frightened,  so  much  stronger  did  his  nature 
show  than  mine,  and  I  took  good  care  to  remain  si- 
lent on  that  subject  until — but  I  am  going  too  fast 
again ;   I  will  tell  you  of  that  hereafter. 

Upon  the  morning  appointed,  the  king,  Wolsey, 
de  Longueville  and  myself,  with  a  small  retinue, 
rode  over  to  Windsor,  where  we  found  that  Mary, 
anticipating  us,  had  barricaded  herself  in  her  bed- 
room and  refused  to  receive  the  announcement.  The 
king  went  up  stairs  to  coax  the  fair  young  besieged 
through  two  inches  of  oak  door,  and  to  induce  her, 
if  possible,  to  come  down.  We  below  could  plainly 
hear  the  king  pleading  in  the  voice  of  a  ,Bashan 
bull,  and  it  afforded  us  some  amusement  behind  our 
hands.  Then  his  majesty  grew  angry  and  threat- 
ened to  break  down  the  door,  but  the  fair  besieged 
maintained  a  most  persistent  and  provoking  silence 
throughout  it  all,  and  allowed  him  to  carry  out  his 
threat  without  so  much  as  a  whimper.  He  was 
thoroughly  angry,  and  called  to  us  to  come  up  to 
see  him  "compel   obedience   from  the  self-willed 


i^cuU  JTII  a  Sutfor  185 

hussy," — a  task  the  magnitude  of  which  he  under- 
rated. 

The  door  was  soon  broken  down,  and  the  king 
walked  in  first,  with  de  Longneville  and  Wolsey 
next,  and  the  rest  of  us  following  in  close  proces- 
sion. But  we  marched  over  broken  walls  to  the  most 
laughable  defeat  ever  suffered  by  besieging  army. 
Our  foe,  though  small,  was  altogether  too  fertile  in 
expedients  for  us.  There  seemed  no  way  to  conquer 
this  girl;  her  resources  were  so  inexhaustible  that 
in  the  moment  of  your  expected  victory  success 
was  turned  into  defeat;  nay,  more,  ridiculous  dis- 
aster. 

We  found  Jane  crouching  on  the  floor  in  a  corner 
half  dead  with  fright  from  the  noise  and  tumult — 
and  where  do  you  think  we  found  her  mistress? 
Frightened  ?  Not  at  all ;  she  was  lying  in  bed  with 
her  face  to  the  wall  as  cool  as  a  January  morning; 
her  clothing  in  a  little  heap  in  the  middle  of  the 
room. 

Without  turning  her  head,  she  exclaimed :  "Come 
in,  brother ;  you  are  quite  welcome.  Bring  in  your 
friends ;  I  am  ready  to  receive  them,  though  not  in 
court  attire,  as  you  see."  And  she  thrust  her  bare 
arm  straight  up  from  the  bed  to  prove  her  words. 
You  should  have  seen  the  Frenchman's  little  black 
eyes  gloat  on  its  beauty. 

Mary  went  on,  still  looking  toward  the  wall:  "I 
will  arise  and  receive  you  all  informally,  if  you 
wiil  but  wait." 


ii86   XOhen  Kxitghihood  Wcl^  in  Flower 

This  disconcerted  the  imperturbable  Henry,  who 
:was  about  at  his  wit's  end. 

"Q)ver  that  arm,  you  hussy,"  he  cried  in  a  flam- 
ing rage. 

"Be  not  impatient,  brother  mine  I  I  will  jump  out 
in  just  a  moment." 

A  little  scream  from  Jane  startled  everybody,  and 
she  quickly  ran  up  to  the  king,  saying :  "I  beg  your 
majesty  to  go.  She  will  do  as  she  says  so  sure  as 
you  remain ;  you  don't  know  her ;  she  is  very  angry. 
Please  go ;   I  will  bring  her  down  stairs  somehow." 

"Ah,  indeed!  Jane  Bolingbroke,"  came  from  the 
bed.  "I  will  receive  my  guests  myself  when  they 
are  kind  enough  to  come  to  my  room."  The  cover- 
lid began  to  move,  and,  whether  or  not  she  was 
really  going  to  carry  out  her  threat,  I  cannot  say, 
but  Henry,  knowing  her  too  well  to  risk  it,  hurried 
us  all  out  of  the  room  and  marched  down  stairs  at 
the  head  of  his  defeated  cohorts.  He  was  swearing 
in  a  way  to  make  a  priest's  flesh  creep,  and  pro- 
testing by  everything  holy  that  Mary  should  be  the 
wife  of  Louis  or  die.  He  went  back  to  Mary's  room 
at  intervals,  but  there  was  enough  persistence  in  that 
one  girl  to  stop  the  wheels  of  time,  if  she  but  set 
herself  to  do  it,  and  the  king  came  away  from  each 
visit  the  victim  of  another  rout. 

Finally  his  anger  cooled  and  he  became  amused. 
From  the  last  visit  he  came  down  laughing : 

"I  shall  have  to  give  up  the  fight  or  else  put  my 
annor  on  with  visor  down,"  said  he ;  "it  is  not  safe 


VouU  A" 1 1  a  Suffer  187 

to  go  near  her  without  it ;  she  is  a  ven-  vixen,  and 
but  now  tried  to  scratch  my  eyes  out." 

Wolsey,  who  had  a  wonderful  knack  for  finding 
the  easiest  means  to  a  difficult  end,  took  Henry  off 
to  a  window  where  they  held  a  whispered  conversa- 
tion. 

It  was  pathetic  to  see  a  might}'  king  and  his  great 
minister  of  state  consulting  and  planning  against 
one  poor  girl ;  and,  as  angry  as  I  felt  toward  Mary, 
I  could  not  help  pitying  her,  and  admired,  beyond 
the  power  of  pen  to  write,  the  valiant  and  so  far 
impregnable  defense  she  had  put  up  against  an 
array  of  strength  that  would  have  made  a  king 
tremble  on  his  throne. 

Presently  Henry  gave  one  of  his  loud  laughs, 
and  slapped  his  thigh  as  if  highly  satisfied  with 
some  proposition  of  Wolsey's. 

"Make  ready  at  once,"  he  said,  "We  will  go 
back  to  London." 

In  a  short  time  we  were  all  at  the  main  stairway 
ready  to  mount  for  the  return  trip. 

The  Lady  Mary's  window  was  just  above,  and  I 
saw  Jane  watching  us  as  we  rode  away. 

After  we  were  well  out  of  Mar\''s  sight  the  king 
called  me  to  him,  and  he,  together  with  de  Longiie- 
ville,  Wolsey  and  myself,  turned  our  horses'  heads, 
rode  rapidly  by  a  circuitous  path  back  to  another 
door  of  the  castle  and  re-entered  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  any  of  the  inmates. 

We  four  remained  in   silence,  enjoined  by  the 


i88    tahen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flo\xfer 

king,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  the  princess, 
supposing  every  one  had  gone,  came  down  stairs 
and  walked  into  the  room  where  we  were  waiting. 

It  was  a  scurvy  trick,  and  I  felt  a  contempt  for 
the  men  who  had  planned  it.  I  could  see  that 
Mary's  first  impulse  was  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  back 
into  her  citadel,  the  bed,  but  in  truth  she  had  in  her 
make-up  very  little  disposition  to  retreat.  She  was 
clear  grit.  What  a  man  she  would  have  made! 
But  what  a  crime  it  would  have  been  in  nature  to 
have  spoiled  so  perfect  a  woman.  How  beautiful 
she  was !  She  threw  one  quick,  surprised  glance  at 
her  brother  and  his  companions,  and  lifting  up  her 
exquisite  head  carelessly  hummed  a  little  tune  under 
her  breath  as  she  marched  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room  with  a  gait  that  Juno  herself  could  not  have 
improved  upon, 

I  saw  the  king  smile,  half  in  pride  of  her,  and  half 
in  amusement,  and  the  Frenchman's  little  eyes 
feasted  upon  her  beauty  with  a  relish  that  could  not 
be  mistaken. 

Henry  and  the  ambassador  spoke  a  word  in  whis- 
pers, when  the  latter  took  a  box  from  a  huge  side 
^^  pocket  and  started  across  the  room  toward  Mary 
.with  the  king  at  his  heels. 

Her  side  was  toward  them  when  they  came  up, 
but  she  kept  her  attitude  as  if  she  had  been  of 
bronze.  She  had  taken  up  a  book  that  was  lying 
on  the  table  and  was  examining  it  as  they  ap- 
proached. 


Louh  JCII  a  Suitor  189 

De  Longueville  held  the  box  in  his  hand,  and 
bowing  and  scraping  said  in  broken  English :  "Per- 
mit to  me,  most  gracious  princess,  that  I  may  have 
the  honor  to  offer  on  behalf  of  my  august  master, 
this  little  testament  of  his  high  admiration  and 
love."  With  this  he  bowed  again,  smiled  like  a 
crack  in  a  piece  of  old  parchment,  and  held  his  box 
toward  Mary.  It  was  open,  probably  in  the  hope  of 
enticing  her  with  a  sight  of  its  contents — a  beautiful 
diamond  necklace. 

She  turned  her  face  ever  so  little  and  took  it  all 
in  with  one  contemptuous,  sneering  glance  out  of 
the  corners  of  her  eyes.  Then  quietly  reaching  out 
her  hand  she  grasped  the  necklace  and  deliberately 
dashed  it  in  poor  old  de  Longueville's  face. 

"There  is  my  answer,  sir !  Go  home  and  tell  your 
imbecile  old  master  I  scorn  his  suit  and  hate  him — 
hate  him — hate  him !"  Then  with  the  tears  falling 
unheeded  down  her  cheeks,  "Master  Wolsey,  you 
butcher's  cur!  This  trick  was  of  your  conception; 
the  others  had  not  brains  enough  to  think  of  it 
Are  you  not  proud  to  have  outwitted  one  poor 
heart-broken  girl  ?  But  beware,  sir ;  I  tell  you  now 
I  will  be  quits  with  you  yet,  or  my  name  is  not 
Mary." 

There  is  a  limit  to  the  best  of  feminine  nerve,  and 
at  that  limit  should  always  be  found  a  flood  of 
healthful  tears.  Mary  had  reached  it  when  she 
threw  the  necklace  and  shot  her  bolt  at  Wolsey,  sc 
she  broke  down  and  hastily  left  the  room. 


I90   XOhen  K.nighthood  Wa^  tn  Flotifer 

The  king,  of  course,  was  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"By   God's   soul/'  he   swore,   "she  shall   marry 
Louis  of  France,  or  I  will  have  her  whipped  to 
death  on  the  Smithfield  pillory."    And  in  his  wicked 
heart — so  impervious  to  a  single  lasting  good  im-; 
pulse — he  really  meant  it.  ■ 

Immediately  after  this,  the  king,  de  Longueville 
and  Wolsey  set  out  for  London. 

I  remained  behind  hoping  to  see  the  girls,  and 
after  a  short  time  a  page  plucked  me  by  the  sleeve, 
saying  the  princess  wished  to  see  me. 

The  page  conducted  me  to  the  same  room  in 
which  had  been  fought  the  battle  with  Mary  in  bed. 
The  door  had  been  placed  on  its  hinges  again,  but 
the  bed  was  tumbled  as  Mary  had  left  it,  and  the 
room  was  in  great  disorder. 

"Oh,  Sir  Edwin,"  began  Mary,  who  was  weep- 
ing, "was  ever  woman  in  such  frightful  trouble? 
My  brother  is  killing  me.  Can  he  not  see  that  I 
could  not  live  through  a  week  of  this  marriage? 
And  I  have  been  deserted  by  all  my  friends,  too, 
excepting  Jane.     She,  poor  thing,  cannot  leave.". 

"You  know  I  would  not  go,"  said  Jane,  paren- 
thetically. Mary  continued :  "You,  too,  have  been 
home  an  entire  week  and  have  not  been  near 
me. 

I  began  to  soften  at  the  sight  of  her  grief,  and 
concluded,  with  Brandon,  that,  after  all,  her  beauty 
could  well  cover  a  multitude  of  sins ;  perhaps  evett 
this,  her  great  transgression  against  him. 


LouU  JCII  a  Suitor  191 

The  princess  was  trying  to  check  her  weeping, 
and  in  a  moment  took  up  the  thread  of  her  un- 
finished sentence :  "And  Master  Brandon,  too,  left 
without  so  much  as  sending  me  one  Httle  word — 
not  a  Hne  nor  a  syllable.  He  did  not  come  near  me, 
but  went  off  as  if  I  did  not  care— or  he  did  not. 
Of  course  he  did  not  care,  or  he  would  not  have 
behaved  so,  knowing  I  was  in  so  much  trouble.  I 
did  not  see  him  at  all  after — one  afternoon  in  the 
king's — about  a  week  before  that  awful  night  in 
London,  except  that  night,  when  I  was  so  fright- 
ened I  could  not  speak  one  word  of  all  the  things  I 
wished  to  say." 

This  sounded  strange  enough,  and  I  began  more 
than  ever  to  suspect  something  wrong.  I,  however, 
kept  as  firm  a  grasp  as  possible  upon  the  stock  of 
indignation  I  had  brought  with  me. 

"How  did  you  expect  to  see  or  hear  from  him," 
asked  I,  "when  he  was  lying  in  a  loathsome  dun- 
geon without  one  ray  of  light,  condemned  to  be 
hanged,  drawn  and  quartered,  because  of  your  self- 
ish neglect  to  save  him  who,  at  the  cost  of  half  his 
blood,  and  almost  his  life,  had  saved  so  much  for 
you?" 

Her  eyes  grew  big,  and  the  tears  were  checked 
by  genuine  surprise. 

I  continued :  "Lady  Mary,  no  one  could  have 
made  me  believe  that  you  would  stand  back  and  let 
the  man,  to  whom  you  owed  so  great  a  debt,  lie  so 
long  in  such  misery,  and  be  condemned  to  such  a 


192   to  hen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Floiver 

death  for  the  act  that  saved  you.  I  could  never 
have  beHeved  it !" 

"Imp  of  hell !"  screamed  Mary ;  "what  tale  is 
this  you  bring  to  torture  me?  Have  I  not  enough 
already?  Tell  me  it  is  a  lie,  or  I  will  have  your 
miserable  little  tongue  torn  out  by  the  root." 

"It  is  no  lie,  princess,  but  an  awful  truth,  and  a 
frightful  shame  to  you." 

I  was  determined  to  tell  her  all  and  let  her  see 
herself  as  she  was. 

She  gave  a  hysterical  laugh,  and  throwing  up  her 
hands,  with  her  accustomed  little  gesture,  fell  upon 
the  bed  in  utter  abandonment,  shaking  as  with  a 
spasm.  She  did  not  weep ;  she  could  not ;  she  was 
past  that  now.  Jane  went  over  to  the  bed  and  tried 
to  soothe  her. 

In  a  moment  Mary  sprang  to  her  feet,  exclaim- 
ing: "Master  Brandon  condemned  to  death  and 
you  and  I  here  talking  and  moaning  and  weeping? 
Come,  come,  we  will  go  to  the  king  at  once.  We 
will  start  to  walk,  Edwin — I  must  be  doing  some- 
thing— and  Jane  can  follow  with  the  horses  and 
overtake  us.  No;  I  will  not  dress;  just  as  I  am; 
this  will  do.  Bring  me  a  hat,  Jane ;  any  one,  any 
one."  While  putting  on  hat  and  gloves  she  con- 
tinued :  "I  will  see  the  king  at  once  and  tell  him 
all !  all !  I  will  do  anything ;  I  will  marry  that  old 
king  of  France,  or  forty  kings,  or  forty  devils ;  it's 
all  one  to  me;  anything!  anything!  to  save  him. 
Oh  I  to  think  that  he  has  been  in  that  dungeon  all 


LouU  XII  a  Suitor  i93 

this  time."  And  the  tears  came  unheeded  in  a 
dehige. 

She  was  under  such  headway,  and  spoke  and 
moved  so  rapidly,  that  I  could  not  stop  her  until  she 
was  nearly  ready  to  go.  Then  I  held  her  by  the  'im 
while  I  said : 

"It  is  not  necessary  now  ;  you  are  too  late." 

A  look  of  horror  came  into  her  face,  and  I 
continued  slowly:  "I  procured  Brandon's  re- 
lease nearly  a  week  ago;  I  did  what  you  should 
have  done,  and  he  is  now  at  our  rooms  in  Green- 
wich." 

Mary  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and,  turning  pale, 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  heart  and  leaned  against 
the  door  frame. 

After  a  short  silence  she  said:  "Edwin  Casko- 
den — fool !  Why  could  you  not  have  told  me  that 
at  first?  I  thought  my  brain  would  burn  and  my 
heart  burst." 

"I  should  have  told  you  had  you  given  me  time. 
As  to  the  pain  it  gave  you" — this  was  the  last  charge 
of  my  large  magazine  of  indignation — "I  care  very 
little  about  that.  You  deserve  it.  I  do  not  know 
what  explanation  you  have  to  offer,  but  nothing  can 
excuse  you.  An  explanation,  however  good,  would 
have  been  little  comfort  to  you  had  Brandon  failed 
you  in  Billingsgate  that  night." 

She  had  fallen  into  a  chair  by  this  time  and  sat  in 
reverie,  staring  at  nothing.  Then  the  tears  came 
again,  but  more  softly. 

13 


194   tS&'^en  Kjnighihood  Wa<s  in  Floioer 

"You  are  right;  nothing  can  excuse  me.  I  am 
the  most  selfish,  ungrateful,  guilty  creature  ever 
born.  A  whole  month  in  that  dungeon !"  And  she 
covered  her  drooping  face  with  her  hands. 

"Go  away  for  awhile,  Edwin,  and  then  return; 
we  shall  want  to  see  you  again,"  said  Jane. 

Upon  my  return  Mary  was  more  composed.  Jane 
had  dressed  her  hair,  and  she  was  sitting  on  the  bed 
in  her  riding  habit,  hat  in  hand.  Her  fingers  were 
nervously  toying  at  the  ribbons  and  her  eyes  cast 
down. 

"You  are  surely  right,  Sir  Edwin.  I  have  no 
excuse.  I  can  have  none;  but  I  will  tell  you  how 
it  was.  You  remember  the  day  you  left  me  in  the 
waiting-room  of  the  king's  council? — when  they 
were  discussing  my  marriage  without  one  thought 
of  me,  as  if  I  were  but  a  slave  or  a  dumb  brute  that 
could  not  feel."  She  began  to  weep  a  little,  but 
soon  recovered  herself.  "While  waiting  for  you  to 
return,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  came  in.  I  knew 
Henry  was  trying  to  sell  me  to  the  French  king, 
and  my  heart  was  full  of  trouble — from  more  causes 
than  you  can  know.  All  the  council,  especially  that 
butcher's  son,  were  urging  him  on,  and  Henry  him- 
self was  anxious  that  the  marriage  should  be 
brought  about.  He  thought  it  would  strengthen 
him  for  the  imperial  crown.  He  wants  everything, 
and  is  ambitious  to  be  emperor.  Emperor !  He 
would  cut  a  pretty  figure!  I  hoped,  though,  I 
should  be  able  to  induce  him  not  to  sacrifice  me  to 


LouU  JCll  a  JS'utior  19S 

his  selfish  interests,  as  T  have  done  before,  hut  I 
knew  only  too  well  it  would  tax  my  powers  to  the 
utmost  this  time.  I  knew  that  if  I  did  anything  to 
anger  or  to  antagonize  him.  it  would  be  all  at  an  end 
with  me.  You  k-now  he  is  so  exacting  with  other 
people's  conduct,  for  one  who  is  so  careless  of  his 
own — so  virtuous  by  proxy.  You  remember  how 
cruelly  he  disgraced  and  crushed  poor  Lady 
Qiesterfield,  who  was  in  such  trouble  about  her 
husband,  and  who  went  to  Grouche's  only  to  learn  if 
he  were  true  to  her.  Henry  seems  to  be  particularly 
sensitive  in  that  direction.  One  would  think  it  was 
in  the  commandments :  'Thou  shalt  not  go  to 
Grouche's.'  It  may  be  that  some  have  gone  there 
for  other  purposes  than  to  have  their  fortunes  told — 
to  meet,  to — but  I  need  not  say  that  I — "  and  she 
stopped  short,  blushing  to  her  hair. 

"Well,  I  knew  I  could  do  nothing  with  Henry  if 
he  once  learned  of  that  visit,  especially  as  it  re- 
sulted so  fatally.  Oh !  why  did  I  go  ?  Why  did 
I  go?  That  was  why  I  hesitated  to  tell  Henry  at 
once.  I  was  hoping  some  other  way  would  open 
whereby  I  might  save  Charles — Master  Brandon. 
While  I  was  waiting,  along  came  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, and  as  I  knew  he  was  popular  in  London, 
and  had  almost  as  much  influence  there  as  the  king, 
a  thought  came  to  me  that  he  might  help  us. 

"I  knew  that  he  and  Master  Brandon  had  passed 
a  few  angry  words  at  one  time  in  my  ball-room — 
you  remember — but  I  also  knew  tliat  the  duke  was 


196   XOhen  Kjiighthood  Wa^  in  Flotster 

in — in  love  with  me,  you  know,  or  pretended  to  be— 
he  always  said  he  was — and  I  felt  sure  I  could,  by 
a  little  flattery,  induce  him  to  do  anything.  He  was 
always  protesting  that  he  would  give  half  his  blood 
to  serve  me.  As  if  anybody  wanted  a  drop  of  his 
wretched  blood.  Poor  Master  Brandon!  his  blood 
.  .  ."  and  the  tears  came,  choking  her  words  for 
the  moment.  "So  I  told  the  duke  I  had  promised 
you  and  Jane  to  procure  Master  Brandon's  liberty, 
and  asked  him  to  do  it  for  me.  He  gladly  consented, 
and  gave  me  his  knightly  word  that  it  should  be  at- 
tended to  without  an  hour's  delay.  He  said  it  might 
have  to  be  done  secretly  in  the  way  of  an  escape — 
not  officially — as  the  Londoners  were  very  jealous 
of  their  rights  and  much  aroused  on  account  of  the 
killing.  Especially,  he  said  that  at  that  time  great 
caution  must  be  used,  as  the  king  was  anxious  to 
conciliate  the  city  in  order  to  procure  a  loan  for 
some  purpose — my  dower,  I  suppose. 

"The  duke  said  it  should  be  as  I  wished ;  that 
Master  Brandon  should  escape,  and  remain  away 
from  London  for  a  few  weeks  until  the  king  pro- 
cured his  loan,  and  then  be  freed  by  royal  procla- 
mation. 

"I  saw  Buckingham  the  next  day,  for  I  was  very 
anxious,  you  may  be  sure,  and  he  said  the  keeper  of 
Newgate  had  told  him  it  had  been  arranged  the 
night  before  as  desired.  I  had  come  to  Windsor 
because  it  was  more  quiet,  and  my  heart  was  full- 
It  is  quite  a  distance  from  London,  and  I  thought 


•'Little  at*  I  valiu*  th«-  |HM.r  <li^riiily,  yet  lio  I   nwut  thitt 
iiiHult  t")  the  Crown  >>(  Fraiice  ! " — A<t  I\'. 


LouU  AT  1 1  a  Suitor  197 

it  might  afford  a  better  opportunity  to — to  see — I 
thought,  perhaps  blaster  Brandon  might  come — 
might  want  to — to — see  Jane  and  me ;  in  fact  I 
wrote  him  before  I  left  Greenwich  that  I  should  ba 
here.  Then  I  heard  he  had  gone  to  New  Spain. 
Now  you  see  how  all  my  troubles  have  come  upon 
me  at  once ;  and  this  the  greatest  of  them,  because 
it  is  my  fault.  I  can  ask  no  forgiveness  from  any 
one,  for  I  cannot  forgive  myself." 

She  then  inquired  about  Brandon's  health  and 
spirits,  and  I  left  out  no  distressing  detail  you  may 
be  sure. 

During  my  recital  she  sat  with  downcast  eyes  and 
tear-stained  face,  playing  with  the  ribbons  of  her 
hat. 

When  I  was  ready  to  go  she  said:  'TIease  say 
to  Master  Brandon  I  should  like — to — see — him,  if 
he  cares  to  come,  if  only  that  I  may  tell  him  how 
it  happened," 

"I  greatly  fear,  in  fact,  I  know  he  will  not  come," 
said  I.  "The  crudest  blow  of  all,  worse  even  than 
the  dungeon,  or  the  sentence  of  death,  was  your 
failure  to  save  him.  He  trusted  you  so  implicitly. 
At  the  time  of  his  arrest  he  refused  to  allow  me  to 
tell  the  king,  saying  he  knew  you  would  see  to  it — 
that  you  were  pure  gold." 

"Ah,  did  he  say  that?"  she  asked,  as  a  sad  little 
smile  lighted  her  face. 

"His  faith  was  so  entirely  without  doubt,  that  his 
recoil  from  you  is  correspondingly  great.     He  goes 


198   ^tOhen  Kxiighthood  Wa^  in  Flotver 

to  New  Spain  as  soon  as  his  health  is  recovered 
sufficiently  for  him  to  travel." 

This  sent  the  last  fleck  of  color  from  her  face, 
and  with  the  words  almost  choking  her  throat: 
"Then  tell  him  what  I  have  said  to  you  and  perhaps 
he  will  not  feel  so — " 

"I  cannot  do  that  either,  Lady  Mary.  When  I 
mentioned  your  name  the  other  day  he  said  he 
would  curse  me  if  I  ever  spoke  it  again  in  his  hear- 
ing." 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that  ?"  Then,  meditatively :  "And 
at  his  trial  he  did  not  tell  the  reason  for  the  killing  ? 
Would  not  compromise  me,  who  had  served  him  so 
ill,  even  to  save  his  own  life  ?  Noble,  noble !"  And 
her  lips  went  together  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  No 
tears  now ;  nothing  but  glowing,  determined  wom- 
anhood. 

"Then  I  will  go  to  him  wherever  he  may  be.  He 
shall  forgive  me,  no  matter  what  my  fault." 

Soon  after  this  we  were  on  our  way  to  London  at 
a  brisk  gallop. 

We  were  all  very  silent,  but  at  one  time  Mary 
spoke  up  from  the  midst  of  a  reverie :  "During  the 
moment  when  I  thought  Master  Brandon  had  been 
executed — when  you  said  it  was  too  late — it  seemed 
that  I  was  born  again  and  all  made  over;  that  I 
was  changed  in  the  very  texture  of  my  nature  by 
the  shock,  as  they  say  the  grain  of  the  iron  cannon 
is  sometimes  changed  by  too  violent  an  explosion." 
And  this  proved  to  be  true  in  some  respects. 


Louis  XII  a  Suitor  i99 

We  rode  on  rapidly  and  did  not  stop  in  London 
except  to  give  the  horses  drink. 

After  crossing  the  bridge,  Mary  said,  half  to  Jane 
and  half  to  herself:  "I  will  never  marry  the  French 
king — never."  Mary  was  but  a  girl  pitted  against 
a  body  of  brutal  men,  two  of  them  rulers  of  the 
two  greatest  nations  on  earth — rather  heavy  odds, 
for  one  woman. 

We  rode  down  to  Greenwich  and  entered  the 
palace  without  exciting  comment,  as  the  princess 
was  in  the  habit  of  coming  and  going  at  will. 

The  king  and  queen  and  most  of  the  courtiers 
were  in  London — at  Bridewell  House  and  Baynard's 
Castle — where  Henry  was  vigorously  pushing  the 
loan  of  five  hundred  thousand  crowns  for  Mary's 
dower,  the  only  business  of  state  in  which,  at  that 
time,  he  took  any  active  interest.  Subsequently,  as 
you  know,  he  became  interested  in  the  divorce  laws, 
and  the  various  methods  whereby  a  man,  especially 
a  king,  might  rid  himself  of  a  distasteful  wife ;  and 
after  he  saw  the  truth  in  Anne  Boleyn's  eyes,  he 
adopted  a  combined  policy  of  church  and  state  craft 
that  has  brought  us  a  deal  of  senseless  trouble  ever 
since — and  is  like  to  keep  it  up. 

As  to  Mary's  dower,  Henry  was  to  pay  Louis 
only  four  hundred  thousand  crowns,  but  he  made 
the  marriage  an  excuse  for  an  extra  hundred  thou- 
sand, to  be  devoted  to  his  own  private  use. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  palace,  the  girls  went 
to  their  apartments  and  I  to  mine,  where  I  found 


2CK)   ^€£}hen  Kjni^hthood  Wa^  in  Flower 

Brandon  reading.  There  was  only  one  window  to 
our  common  room — a  dormer-window,  set  into  the 
roof,  and  reached  by  a  little  passage  as  broad  as  the 
window  itself,  and  perhaps  a  yard  and  a  half  long. 
In  the  alcove  thus  formed  was  a  bench  along  the 
wall,  cushioned  by  Brandon's  great  campaign  cloak. 
In  this  window  we  often  sat  and  read,  and  here  was 
Brandon  with  his  book.  I  had  intended  to  tell  him 
the  girls  were  coming,  for  when  Mary  asked  me  if 
I  thought  he  would  come  to  her  at  the  palace,  and 
when  I  had  again  said  no,  she  reiterated  her  inten- 
tion of  going  to  him  at  once ;  but  my  courage  failed 
me  and  I  did  not  speak  of  it. 

I  knew  that  Mary  ought  not  to  come  to  our  room, 
and  that  if  news  of  it  should  reach  the  king's  ears 
there  would  be  more  and  worse  trouble  than  ever, 
and,  as  usual,  Brandon  would  pay  the  penalty  for 
all.  Then  again,  if  it  were  discovered  it  might  seri- 
ously compromise  both  Mary  and  Jane,  as  the  world 
is  full  of  people  who  would  rather  say  and  believe 
an  evil  thing  of  another  than  to  say  their  prayers 
or  to  believe  the  holy  creed. 

I  had  said  as  much  to  the  Lady  Mary  when  she 
expressed  her  determination  to  go  to  Brandon. 
She  had  been  in  the  wrong  so  much  of  late  that  she 
was  humbled,  and  I  was  brave  enough  to  say  what- 
ever I  felt ;  but  she  said  she  had  thought  it  all  over, 
and  as  every  one  was  away  from  Greenwich  it 
would  not  be  found  out  if  done  secretly. 


Lout's  ATI  I  a  Suitor  20X 

She  told  Jane  she  need  not  go;  that  she,  Mary, 
did  not  want  to  take  any  risk  of  compromising  her. 

You  see,  trouble  was  doing  a  good  work  in  the 
princess,  and  had  made  it  possible  for  a  generous 
thought  for  another  to  find  spontaneous  lodgment 
in  her  heart.  What  a  great  thing  it  is,  this  human 
suffering,  which  so  sensitizes  our  sympathy,  and 
makes  us  tender  to  another's  pain.  Nothing  else  so 
fits  us  for  earth  or  prepares  us  for  heaven. 

Jane  would  have  gone,  though,  had  she  known 
that  all  her  fair  name  would  go  with  her.  She  was 
right,  you  see,  when  she  told  me,  while  riding  over 
to  Windsor,  that  should  Mary's  love  blossom  into 
a  full-blown  passion  she  would  wreck  everything 
and  everybody,  including  herself  perhaps,  to  attain 
the  object  of  so  great  a  desire. 

It  looked  now  as  if  she  were  on  the  high  road  to 
that  end.  Nothing  short  of  chains  and  fetters  could 
have  kept  her  from  going  to  Brandon  that  evening. 
There  was  an  inherent  force  about  her  that  was 
irresistible  and  swept  everything  before  it. 

In  our  garret  she  was  to  meet  another  w-ill, 
stronger  and  infinitely  better  controlled  than  her 
own,  and  I  did  not  know  how  it  would  all  turn  out. 


CHATTE'R  XII 

Atonement 

I  HAD  not  been  long  in  the  room  when  a  block 
at  the  door  announced  the  girls.  I  admitted 
them,  and  Mary  walked  to  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  It  was  just  growing  dark  and  the  room 
was  quite  dim,  save  at  the  window  where  Brandon 
sat  reading.  Gods  !  those  were  exciting  moments ; 
my  heart  beat  like  a  woman's.  Brandon  saw  the 
girls  when  they  entered,  but  never  so  much  as 
looked  up  from  his  book.  You  must  remember  he 
had  a  great  grievance.  Even  looking  at  it  from 
Mary's  side  of  the  case,  certainly  its  best  point 
of  view,  he  had  been  terribly  misused,  and  it  was 
all  the  worse  that  the  misuse  had  come  from 
one  who,  from  his  standpoint,  had  pretended  to 
love  him,  and  had  wantonly  led  him  on,  as  he 
had  the  best  of  right  to  think,  to  love  her,  and 
to  suffer  the  keenest  pangs  a  heart  can  know.  Then 
you  must  remember  he  did  not  know  even  the 
best  side  of  the  matter,  bad  as  it  was,  but  saw  only 
the  naked  fact,  that  in  recompense  for  his  great 
help  in  time  of  need,  Mary  had  deliberately  allowed 
him  to  lie  in  that  dungeon  a  long,  miserable  month, 
and  would  have  suffered  him  to  die.  So  it  was  no 
wonder  his  heart  was  filled  with  bitterness  toward 

her.    Jane  and  I  had  remained  near  the  door,  and 

(202) 


Atonement  203 

poor  Man-  was  a  pitiable  princess,  standing  there 
so  full  of  doubt  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  After  a 
moment  she  stepped  toward  the  window,  and,  with 
quick-coming  breath,  stopped  at  the  threshold  of  the 
little  passage. 

"Master  Brandon,  I  have  come,  not  to  make  ex- 
cuses, for  nothing  can  excuse  me,  but  to  tell  you 
how  it  all  happened — by  trusting  to  another." 

Brandon  arose,  and  marking  the  place  in  his  book 
with  his  finger,  followed  Mary,  who  had  stepped 
backward  into  the  room. 

"Your  highness  is  very  gracious  and  kind  thus 
to  honor  me,  but  as  our  ways  will  hereafter  lie 
as  far  apart  as  the  world  is  broad,  I  think  it  would 
have  been  far  better  had  you  refrained  from  so 
imprudent  a  visit;  especially  as  anything  one  so 
exalted  as  yourself  may  have  to  say  can  be  no 
affair  of  such  as  I — one  just  free  of  the  hangman's 
noose." 

"Oh !  don't !  I  pray  you.  Let  me  tell  you,  and 
it  may  make  a  difference.  It  must  pain  you,  I  know, 
to  think  of  me  as  you  do,  after — after — you  know ; 
after  what  has  passed  between  us." 

"Yes,  that  only  makes  it  all  the  harder.  If  you 
could  give  your  kisses" — and  she  blushed  red  as 
blood — "to  one  for  whom  you  care  so  little  that  you 
could  leave  him  to  die  like  a  dog,  when  a  word  from 
you  would  have  saved  him,  what  reason  have  I  to 
suppose  they  arc  not  for  every  man  ?" 

This  gave  Mary  an  opening  of  which  she  was 


204   tfiC/^cn  Kjii^hthood  Was  in  Ftotver 

quick  enough  to  take  advantage,  for  Brandon  was 
in  the  wrong. 

"You  know  that  is  not  true.  You  are  not  honest 
with  me  nor  with  yourself,  and  that  is  not  Hke  you. 
You  know  that  no  other  man  ever  had,  or  could 
have,  any  favor  from  me,  even  the  slightest.  Wan- 
tonness is  not  among  my  thousand  faults.  It  is  not 
that  which  angers  you.  You  are  sure  enough  of  me 
in  that  respect.  In  truth,  I  had  almost  come  to  be- 
lieve you  were  too  sure,  that  I  had  grown  cheap  in 
your  eyes,  and  you  did  not  care  so  much  as  I  thought 
and  hoped  for  what  I  had  to  give,  for  after  that  day 
you  came  not  near  me  at  all.  I  know  it  was  the  part 
of  wisdom  and  prudence  that  you  should  remain 
away;  but  had  you  cared  as  much  as  I,  your  pru- 
dence would  not  have  held  you." 

She  hung  her  head  a  moment  in  silence;  then, 
looking  at  him,  almost  ready  for  tears,  continued: 
"A  man  has  no  right  to  speak  in  that  way  of  a 
woman  whose  little  favors  he  has  taken,  and  make 
her  regret  that  she  has  given  a  gift  only  that  it  may 
recoil  upon  her.  'Little,'  did  I  say?  Sir,  do  you 
know  what  that — first — kiss  was  to  me?  Had  I 
possessed  all  the  crowns  of  all  the  earth  I  would 
have  given  them  to  you  as  willingly.  Now  you 
know  the  value  I  placed  on  it,  however  worthless  it 
was  to  you.  Yet  I  was  a  cheerful  giver  of  that  great 
gift,  was  I  not  ?  And  can  you  find  it  in  your  heart 
to  make  of  it  a  shame  to  me — that  of  which  I  was 
so  proud  ?" 


Atonement  205 

She  stood  tliere  with  head  inclined  a  little  to  one 
side,  looking  at  him  inquiringly  as  if  awaiting  an 
answer.  He  did  not  speak,  but  looked  steadily  at 
his  book.  I  felt,  however,  that  he  was  changing,  and 
I  was  sure  her  beauty,  never  more  exquisite  than 
in  its  present  humility,  would  yet  atone  for  even  so 
great  a  fault  as  hers.  Err,  look  beautiful,  and  re- 
ceive remission !  Such  a  woman  as  Mary  carries 
her  indulgence  in  her  face. 

I  now  began  to  realize  for  the  first  time  the  won- 
drous power  of  this  girl,  and  ceased  to  marvel  that 
she  had  always  been  able  to  turn  even  the  king,  the 
most  violent,  stubborn  man  on  earth,  to  her  own 
wishes.  Her  manner  made  her  words  eloquent,  and 
already,  with  true  feminine  tactics,  she  had  put 
Brandon  in  the  w-rong  in  everything  because  he  was 
wrong  in  part. 

Then  she  quickly  went  over  what  she  had  said  to 
me.  She  told  of  her  great  dread  lest  the  king  should 
learn  of  the  visit  to  Grouche's  and  its  fatal  conse- 
quences, knowing  full  w^ell  it  would  render  Henry 
impervious  to  her  influence  and  precipitate  the 
French  marriage.  She  told  him  of  how  she  was 
going  to  the  king  the  day  after  the  arrest  to  ask 
his  release,  and  of  the  meeting  with  Buckingham, 
and  his  promise. 

Still  Brandon  said  nothing,  and  stood  as  if  po- 
litely waiting  for  her  to  withdraw. 

She  remained  silent  a  little  time,  waiting  for  hira 


2o6   XOhen  K.nighlhood  Wa^  in  Flower 

to  speak,  when  tears,  partly  of  vexation,  I  think, 
moistened  her  eyes. 

"Tell  me  at  least,"  she  said,  "that  you  know  I 
speak  the  truth.  I  have  always  believed  in  you,  and 
.now  I  ask  for  your  faith.  I  would  not  lie  to  you  in 
the  faintest  shading  of  a  thought — not  for  heaven 
itself — not  even  for  your  love  and  forgiveness, 
much  as  they  are  to  me,  and  I  want  to  know  that  you 
are  sure  of  my  truthfulness,  if  you  doubt  all  else. 
You  see  I  speak  plainly  of  what  your  love  is  to  me, 
for  although,  by  remaining  away,  you  made  me  fear 
I  had  been  too  lavish  with  my  favors — that  is  every 
woman's  fear — I  knew  in  my  heart  you  loved  me ; 
that  you  could  not  have  done  and  said  what  you  did 
otherwise.  Now  you  see  what  faith  I  have  in  you, 
and  you  a  man,  whom  a  woman's  instinct  prompts 
to  doubt.  How  does  it  compare  with  your  faith  in 
me,  a  woman,  whom  all  the  instincts  of  a  manly  na- 
ture should  dispose  to  trust?  It  seems  to  be  an 
unwritten  law  that  a  man  may  lie  to  a  woman  con- 
cerning the  most  important  thing  in  life  to  her,  and 
be  proud  of  it,  but  you  see  even  now  I  have  all  faith 
in  your  love  for  me,  else  I  surely  should  not  be  here. 
You  see  I  trust  even  your  unspoken  word,  when  it 
might,  without  much  blame  to  you,  be  a  spoken 
lie;  yet  you  do  not  trust  me,  who  have  no  world- 
given  right  to  speak  falsely  about  such  things,  and 
when  that  which  I  now  do  is  full  of  shame  for  me, 
and  what  I  have  done  full  of  guilt,  if  inspired  by 
aught  but  the  purest  truth  from  my  heart  of  hearts. 


Atonement  207 

Your  words  mean  so  much — so  much  more,  I  think, 
than  you  reaUzc — and  are  so  cruel  in  turning  to  evil 
tlie  highest,  purest  impulse  a  woman  can  feel — the 
glowing  pride  in  self-surrender,  and  the  sweet,  de- 
lightful privilege  of  giving  where  she  loves.  How 
can  you?    How  can  you?" 

How  eloquent  she  was!  It  seemed  to  me  this 
would  have  melted  the  frozen  sea,  hut  I  think  Bran- 
don felt  that  now  his  only  hope  lay  in  the  safeguard 
of  his  constantly  upheld  indignation. 

When  he  spoke  he  ignored  all  she  had  said. 

"You  did  well  to  employ  my  Lord  of  Bucking- 
ham. It  will  make  matters  more  interesting  when  I 
tell  you  it  was  he  who  attacked  you  and  was  caught 
by  the  leg  under  his  wounded  horse ;  he  was  lame, 
I  am  told,  for  some  time  afterward.  I  had  watched 
him  following  you  from  the  gate  at  Bridewell,  and 
at  once  recognized  him  when  his  mask  fell  off  dur- 
ing the  fight  by  the  wall.  You  have  done  well  at 
every  step,  I  see." 

"Oh,  God;  to  think  of  it!  Had  I  but  known! 
Buckingham  shall  pay  for  this  with  his  head ;  but 
how  could  I  know?  I  was  but  a  poor,  distracted 
girl,  sure  to  make  some  fatal  error.  I  was  in  such 
agony — your  wounds — believe  me,  I  suffered  more 
from  them  than  you  could.  Every  pain  you  felt  was 
a  pang  for  me — and  then  that  awful  marriage!  I 
was  being  sold  like  a  wretched  slave  to  that  old 
satyr,  to  be  gloated  over  and  feasted  upon.  No 
man  can  know  the  horror  of  that  thought  to  a 


2o8   *€Ohen  Kjnighihood  Was  in  Flotver 

woman — to  any  woman,  good  or  bad.  To  have 
one's  beauty  turn  to  curse  her  and  make  her  desir- 
able only — only  as  well-fed  cattle  are  prized.  No 
matter  how  great  the  manifestation  of  such  so-called 
love,  it  all  the  more  repels  a  woman  and  adds  to 
her  loathing  day  by  day.  Then  there  was  some- 
thing worse  than  all," — she  was  almost  weeping 
now — "I  might  have  been  able  to  bear  the  thought 
even  of  that  hideous  marriage — others  have  lived 
through  the  like — but — but  after — that — that  day — • 
when  you — it  seemed  that  your  touch  was  a  spark 
dropped  into  a  heart  full  of  tinder,  which  had  been 
lying  there  awaiting  it  all  these  years.  In  that  one 
moment  the  flame  grew  so  intense  I  could  not  with- 
stand it.  My  throat  ached ;  I  could  scarcely  breathe, 
and  it  seemed  that  my  heart  would  burst."  Here  the 
tears  gushed  forth  as  she  took  a  step  toward  him 
with  outstretched  arms,  and  said  between  her  sobs : 
"I  wanted  you,  you !  for  my  husband — for  my  hus- 
band, and  I  could  not  bear  the  torturing  thought  of 
losing  you  or  enduring  any  other  man.  I  could 
not  give  you  up  after  that — it  was  all  too  late,  too 
late ;  it  had  gone  too  far.    I  was  lost !  lost !" 

He  sprang  to  where  she  stood  leaning  toward 
him,  and  caught  her  to  his  breast. 

She  held  him  from  her  while  she  said :  "Now  you 
know — now  you  know  that  I  would  not  have  left 
you  in  that  terrible  place,  had  I  known  it.  No, 
not  if  it  had  taken  my  life  to  buy  your  freedom," 

"i  do  know;    I  do  know.     Be  sure  of  that;    I 


A^tonemenl  209 

know  it  and  shall  know  it  always,  whatever  hap- 
pens ;  nothing  can  change  me.  I  will  never  doubt 
you  again.     It  is  my  turn  to  ask  forgiveness  now." 

"Xo,  no;  just  forgive  me;  that  is  all  I  ask,"  and 
her  head  was  on  his  breast. 

"Let  us  step  out  into  the  passage-way,  Edwin," 
said  Jane,  and  we  did.  There  were  times  when  Jane 
seemed  to  be  inspired. 

When  we  went  back  into  the  room  Ivlary  and 
Brandon  were  sitting  in  the  window-way  on  his 
great  cloak.  They  rose  and  came  to  us,  holding 
each  other's  hands,  and  Mary  asked,  looking  up  to 
him : 

"Shall  we  tell  them?" 

"As  you  like,  my  lady." 

Mary  was  willing,  and  looked  for  Brandon  to 
speak,  so  he  said :  "This  lady  whom  I  hold  by  the 
hand  and  myself  have  promised  each  other  before 
the  good  God  to  be  husband  and  wife,  if  fortune 
ever  so  favor  us  that  it  be  possible." 

"No,  that  is  not  it,"  interrupted  Mary.  "There 
is  no  'if  in  it ;  it  shall  be,  whether  it  is  possible  or 
not.  Nothing  shall  prevent."  At  this  she  kissed 
Jane  and  told  her  how  she  loved  her,  and  gave  mc 
her  hand,  for  her  love  was  so  great  within  her  that 
it  overflowed  upon  every  one.  She,  however,  al- 
ways had  a  plenitude  of  love  for  Jane,  and  though 
she  might  scold  her  and  apparently  misuse  her,  Jane 
was  as  dear  as  a  sister,  and  was  always  sure  of 

her  steadfast,  tried  and  lasting  affection. 
u 


210  to  hen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Flotifcr 

After  Mary  had  said  there  should  be  no  "if," 
Brandon  replied: 

"Very  well,  Madame  Destiny."  Then  turning 
to  us :  "What  ought  I  to  do  for  one  who  is  willing 
to  stoop  from  so  high  an  estate  to  honor  me  and 
be  my  wife?" 

"Love  her,  and  her  alone,  with  your  whole  heart, 
as  long  as  you  live.  That  is  all  she  wants,  I  am 
sure,"  volunteered  Jane,  sentimentally. 

"Jane,  you  are  a  Madam  Solomon,"  said  Mary, 
with  a  tone  of  her  old-time  laugh.  "Is  the  course 
you  advise  as  you  would  wish  to  be  done  by  ?"  And 
she  glanced  mischievously  from  Jane  to  me,  as  the 
laugh  bubbled  up  from  her  heart,  merry  and  soft 
as  if  it  had  not  come  from  what  was  but  now  the 
home  of  grief  and  pain. 

"I  know  nothing  about  how  I  should  like  to 
be  done  by,"  said  Jane,  with  a  pout,  "but  if  you 
have  such  respect  for  my  wisdom  I  will  offer 
a   little   more ;    I   think   it  is   time  we   should  be 


going, 

"Now,  Jane,  you  are  growing  foolish  again;  I 
will  not  go  yet,"  and  Mary  made  manifest  her  inten- 
tion by  sitting  down.  She  could  not  bring  herself 
to  forego  the  pleasure  of  staying,  dangerous  as  she 
knew  it  to  be,  and  could  not  bear  the  pain  of  part- 
ing, even  for  a  short  time,  now  that  she  had  Bran- 
don once  more.  The  time  was  soon  coming — but  I 
am  too  fast  again. 

After  a  time  Brandon  said :    "I  think  Jane's  wis- 


y\toncment  211 

dom  remains  with  her,  Mary.  It  is  better  that 
you  do  not  stay,  much  as  I  wish  to  have  you." 

She  was  ready  to  obey  him  at  once. 

When  she  arose  to  go  she  took  both  his  hands 
in  hers  and  whispered:  "  *Mar}'.'  I  Hke  the  name 
on  your  hps,"  and  then  glancing  hurriedly  over  her 
shoulder  to  see  if  Jane  and  I  were  looking,  lifted 
her  face  to  him  and  ran  after  us. 

We  were  a  little  in  advance  of  the  princess,  and, 
as  we  walked  along,  Jane  said  under  her  breath: 
"Now  look  out  for  trouble ;  it  will  come  quickly,  and 
I  fear  for  Master  Brandon  more  than  any  one.  He 
has  made  a  noble  fight  against  her  and  against  him- 
self, and  it  is  no  wonder  she  loves  him." 

This  made  me  feel  a  little  jealous. 

"Jane,  you  could  not  love  him,  could  you?"  I 
asked. 

"Xo  matter  what  I  could  do,  Edwin;  I  do  not, 
and  that  should  satisfy  you."  Her  voice  and  man- 
ner said  more  than  her  words.  The  hall  was  almost 
dark,  and — I  have  always  considered  that  occa- 
sion one  of  my  lost  opportunities ;  but  they  are  not 
many. 

The  next  evening  Brandon  and  I,  upon  Lady 
Mary's  invitation,  went  up  to  her  apartments,  but 
did  not  stay  long,  fearing  some  one  might  find  us 
there  and  cause  trouble.  We  would  not  have  gone 
at  all  had  not  the  whole  court  been  absent  in  Lon- 
don, for  discovery  would  have  been  a  serious  mat- 
ter to  one  of  us  at  least. 


212  Xi^hen  Kjii^hthood  Wa>ff  in  Flotuer 

As  I  told  you  once  before,  Henry  did  not  care 
how  much  Brandon  might  love  his  sister,  but  Buck- 
ingham had  whispered  suspicions  of  the  state  of 
Mary's  heart,  and  his  own  observations,  together 
with  the  intercepted  note,  had  given  these  sus- 
picions a  stronger  coloring,  so  that  a  very  small 
matter  might  turn  them  into  certainties. 

The  king  had  pardoned  Brandon  for  the  killing 
of  the  two  men  in  Billingsgate,  as  he  was  forced 
to  do  under  the  circumstances,  but  there  his  kind- 
ness stopped.  After  a  short  time  he  deprived  him 
of  his  place  at  court,  and  all  that  was  left  for  him 
of  royal  favor  was  permission  to  remain  with  me 
and  live  at  the  palace  until  such  time  as  lie  should 
sail  for  New  Spain. 


CHATTE'R   jrill 

A  GirV^  Consent 

THE  treaty  had  been  agreed  upon,  and  as  to  the 
international  arrangement,  at  least,  the  mar- 
riage of  Louis  de  Valois  and  Mary  Tudor 
was  a  settled  fact.  All  it  needed  was  the  consent 
of  an  eighteen-year-old  girl — a  small  matter,  of 
course,  as  marriageable  women  are  but  commodi- 
ties in  statecraft,  and  theoretically,  at  least,  ac- 
quiesce in  everything  their  liege  lords  ordain.  Lady 
Mary's  consent  had  been  but  theoretical,  but  it  was 
looked  upon  by  every  one  as  amounting  to  an  actual, 
vociferated,  sonorous  "yes ;"  that  is  to  say,  by  every 
one  but  the  princess,  who  had  no  more  notion  of 
saying  "yes"  than  she  had  of  reciting  the  Sanscrit 
vocabulary  from  the  pillory  of  Smithfield. 

Wolsey,  whose  manner  was  smooth  as  an  otter's 
coat,  had  been  sent  to  fetch  the  needed  "yes";  but 
he  failed. 

Jane  told  me  about  it. 

Wolsey  had  gone  privately  to  see  the  princess, 
and  had  thrown  out  a  sort  of  skirmish  line  by  flat- 
tering her  beauty,  but  had  found  her  not  in  the  best 
humor. 

"Yes,  yes,  my  lord  of  Lincoln,  T  know  how  beau- 
tiful I  am ;  no  one  knows  better;  I  know  all  about 
my  hair,  eyes,  teeth,  eyebrows  and  skin.    I  tell  you 

(213) 


214    ^SS^hen  Kjnighthood  Wao-  in  Flobt^et 

I  am  sick  of  them.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  them; 
it  won't  help  you  to  get  my  consent  to  marry  that 
vile  old  creature.  That  is  what  you  have  come  for, 
of  course.  I  have  been  expecting  you ;  why  did 
not  my  brother  come  ?" 

"I  think  he  was  afraid ;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  was  afraid  myself,"  answered  Wolsey,  with  a 
smile.  This  made  Mary  smile,  too,  in  spite  of  her- 
self, and  went  a  long  way  toward  putting  her  in 
a  good  humor.  Wolsey  continued:  "His  majesty 
could  not  have  given  me  a  more  disagreeable  task. 
You  doubtless  think  I  am  in  favor  of  this  mar- 
riage, but  I  am  not." 

This  was  as  great  a  lie  as  ever  fell  whole  out  of 
a  bishop's  mouth.  *T  have  been  obliged  to  fall  in 
with  the  king's  views  on  the  matter,  for  he  has  had 
his  mind  set  on  it  from  the  first  mention  by  de 
Longueville." 

"Was  it  that  bead-eyed  little  mummy  who  sug- 
gested it?" 

**Yes,  and  if  you  marry  the  king  of  France  you 
can  repay  him  with  usury." 

"  'Tis  an  inducement,  by  my  troth." 

"I  do  not  mind  saying  to  you  in  confidence  that 
I  think  it  an  outrage  to  force  a  girl  like  you  to 
marry  a  man  like  Louis  of  France,  but  how  are  we 
to  avoid  it  ?" 

By  the  "we"  Wolsey  put  himself  in  alliance  with 
Mary,  and  the  move  was  certainly  adroit. 


A  Ctrr>s  Consent  215 

"How  are  we  to  avoid  it  ?  Have  no  fear  of  that, 
my  lord ;    I  will  show  you." 

"Oh !  but  my  dear  princess ;  permit  me ;  you 
do  not  seem  to  know  your  brother ;  you  cannot  in 
any  way  avoid  this  marriage.  I  believe  he  will  im- 
prison you  and  put  you  on  bread  and  water  to  force 
your  consent.  I  am  sure  you  had  better  do  willingly 
that  which  you  will  eventually  be  compelled  to  do 
anyway ;  and  besides,  there  is  another  thought  that 
has  come  to  me;  shall  I  speak  plainly  before  Lady 
Jane  Bolingbroke?" 

"I  have  no  secrets  from  her." 

"Very  well ;  it  is  this :  Louis  is  old  and  very 
feeble ;  he  cannot  live  long,  and  it  may  be  that  you 
can,  by  a  ready  consent  now,  exact  a  promise  from 
your  brother  to  allow  you  your  own  choice  in  the 
event  of  a  second  marriage.  You  might  in  that  way 
purchase  what  you  could  not  bring  about  in  any 
other  way." 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  want  to  purchase  aught 
m  any  way,  Master  Wolsey?  I  most  certainly  do 
not  intend  to  do  so  by  marrying  France." 

"I  do  not  know  that  you  wish  to  purchase  any- 
thing, but  a  woman's  heart  is  not  always  under  her 
full  control,  and  it  sometimes  goes  out  to  one  very 
far  beneath  her  in  station,  but  the  equal  of  any  man 
on  earth  in  grandeur  of  soul  and  nobleness  of  na- 
ture. It  might  be  that  there  is  sucli  a  man  whom 
any  woman  would  be  amply  justified  in  purchasing 


2i6   tX^hen  Kjnighthood  Wcu  in  Flokoer 

at  any  sacrifice — doubly  so  if  it  were  buying  happi- 
ness for  two." 

His  meaning  was  too  plain  even  to  pretend  to 
misunderstand,  and  Mary's  eyes  flashed  at  him,  as 
her  face  broke  into  a  dimpling  smile  in  spite  of 
her. 

Wolsey  thought  he  had  won,  and  to  clinch  the 
victory  said,  in  his  forceful  manner:  "Louis  XII 
will  not  live  a  year ;  let  me  carry  to  the  king  your 
consent,  and  I  guarantee  you  his  promise  as  to  a 
second  marriage." 

In  an  instant  Mary's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  her  face 
was  like  the  blackest  storm  cloud. 

"Carry  this  to  the  king:  that  I  will  see  him  and 
the  whole  kingdom  sunk  in  hell  before  I  will  marry 
Louis  of  France.  That  is  my  answer  once  and  for  all. 
Good  even'.  Master  Wolsey."  And  she  swept  out 
of  the  room  with  head  up  and  dilating  nostrils, 
the  very  picture  of  defiance. 

St,  George !  She  must  have  looked  superb.  She 
was  one  of  the  few  persons  whom  anger  and  dis- 
dain and  the  other  passions  which  we  call  ungentle 
seemed  to  illumine — they  were  so  strong  in  her, 
and  yet  not  violent.  It  seemed  that  every  deep 
emodon  but  added  to  her  beauty  and  brought  it  out, 
as  the  light  within  a  church  brings  out  the  exquisite 
figuring  on  the  windows. 

After  Wolsey  had  gone,  Jane  said  to  Mary: 
"Don't  you  think  it  would  have  been  better  had  you 
sent  a  softer  answer  to  your  brother?    I  believe  you 


A.  CirV^r  Consent  217 

could  reach  his  heart  even  now  if  you  were  to  make 
the  effort.  You  have  not  tried  in  this  matter  as 
you  did  in  the  others." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Jane.  I  will  go  to 
Henry." 

Mary  waited  until  she  knew  the  king  was  alone, 
and  then  went  to  him. 

On  entering  the  room,  she  said:  "Brother,  I 
sent  a  hasty  message  to  you  by  the  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln this  morning,  and  have  come  to  ask  your  for- 
giveness." 

"Ah !  little  sister ;  I  thought  you  would  change 
your  mind.    Xow  you  are  a  good  girl." 

"Oh !  do  not  misunderstand  me ;  I  asked  your 
forgiveness  for  the  message ;  as  to  the  marriage,  I 
came  to  tell  you  that  it  would  kill  me  and  that  I  could 
not  bear  it.  Oh !  brother,  you  are  not  a  woman — 
you  cannot  know."  Henry  flew  into  a  passion,  and 
with  oaths  and  curses  ordered  her  to  leave  him  un- 
less she  was  ready  to  give  her  consent.  She  had 
but  two  courses  to  take,  so  she  left  with  her  heart 
full  of  hatred  for  the  most  brutal  wretch  who  ever 
sat  upon  a  throne — and  that  is  making  an  extreme 
case.  As  she  was  going,  she  turned  upon  him  like 
a  fury,  and  exclaimed : 

"Never,  never!     Do  you  hear?    Never!" 

Preparations  went  on  for  the  marriage  just  as  if 
Mary  had  given  her  solemn  consent.  The  impor- 
tant work  of  providing  the  trousseau  began  at  once, 
and  the  more  important  matter  of  sectiring  the  loan 


2i8   XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flobver 

from  the  London  merchants  was  pushed  along  rap- 
idly. The  good  citizens  might  cling  affectionately 
to  their  angels,  double  angels,  crowns  and  pounds 
sterling,  but  the  fear  in  which  they  held  the  king, 
and  a  little  patting  of  the  royal  hand  upon  the  ple- 
beian head,  worked  the  charm,  and  out  came  the 
yellow  gold,  never  to  be  seen  again,  God  wot. 
Under  the  stimulus  of  the  royal  smile  they  were 
ready  to  shout  themselves  hoarse,  and  to  eat  and 
drink  themselves  red  in  the  face  in  celebration  of 
the  wedding  day.  In  short,  they  were  ready  to  be 
tickled  nearly  to  death  for  the  honor  of  paying  to 
a  wretched  old  lecher  a  wagon-load  of  gold  to  ac- 
cept, as  a  gracious  gift,  the  most  beautiful  heart- 
broken girl  in  the  world.  That  is,  she  would  have 
been  heart-broken  had  she  not  been  inspired  with 
courage.  As  it  was,  she  wasted  none  of  her  energy 
in  lamentations,  but  saved  it  all  to  fight  with. 
Heavens !  how  she  did  fight !  If  a  valiant  defense 
ever  deserved  victory,  it  was  in  her  case.  When 
the  queen  went  to  her  with  silks  and  taffetas  and 
fine  cloths,  to  consult  about  the  trousseau,  although 
the  theme  was  one  which  would  interest  almost  any 
woman,  she  would  have  none  of  it,  and  when  Cath- 
erine insisted  upon  her  trying  on  a  certain  gown, 
she  called  her  a  blackamoor,  tore  the  garment  to 
pieces,  and  ordered  her  to  leave  the  room. 

Henry  sent  Wolsey  to  tell  her  that  the  13th  day 
of  August  had  been  fixed  upon  as  the  day  of  the 
marriage,  de  Longueville  to  act  as  the  French  king's 


A  GirV^  Consent  219 

proxy,  and  W'olsey  was  glad  to  come  off  with  his 
hfe. 

Matters  were  getting  into  a  pretty  tangle  at  the 
palace.  Mary  would  not  speak  to  the  king,  and 
poor  Catherine  was  afraid  to  come  within  arm's 
length  of  her ;  Wolsey  was  glad  to  keep  out  of  her 
way,  and  she  flew  at  Buckingham  with  talons  and 
beak  upon  first  sight.  As  to  the  battle  with  Buck- 
ingham, it  was  short  but  decisive,  and  this  was  the 
way  it  came  about :  There  had  been  a  passage  be- 
tween the  duke  and  Brandon,  in  which  the  latter 
had  tried  to  coax  the  former  into  a  duel,  the  only 
way,  of  course,  to  settle  the  n-eighty  matters  be- 
tween them.  Buckingham,  however,  had  had  a 
taste  of  Brandon's  nimble  sword  play,  and,  bear- 
ing in  mind  Judson's  fate,  did  not  care  for  any 
more.  They  had  met  by  accident,  and  Brandon, 
full  of  smiles  and  as  polite  as  a  Frenchman,  greeted 
him. 

"Doubtless  my  lord,  having  crossed  swords  twice 
with  me,  will  do  me  the  great  honor  to  grant  that 
privilege  the  third  time,  and  will  kindly  tell  me 
where  my  friend  can  wait  upon  a  friend  of  his 
grace." 

"There  is  no  need  for  us  to  meet  over  that  little 
affair.  You  had  the  best  of  it,  and  if  I  am  satisfied 
you  should  be.  I  was  really  in  the  wrong,  but  I 
did  not  know  the  princess  had  invited  you  to  her 
ball." 

"^'our   lordship   is   pleased   to  evade,"   returned 


220   XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wajs  in  Flower 

Brandon.  "It  is  not  the  ball-room  matter  that  I 
have  to  complain  of;  as  you  have  rightly  said,  if 
you  are  satisfied,  I  certainly  should  be;  but  it  is 
that  your  lordship,  in  the  name  of  the  king,  in- 
structed the  keeper  of  Newgate  prison  to  confine 
me  in  an  underground  cell,  and  prohibited  commu- 
nication with  any  of  my  friends.  You  so  arranged 
it  that  my  trial  should  be  secret,  both  as  to  the  day 
thereof  and  the  event,  in  order  that  it  should  not 
be  known  to  those  who  might  be  interested  in  my 
release.  You  promised  the  Lady  Mary  that  you 
would  procure  my  liberty,  and  thereby  prevented 
her  going  to  the  king  for  that  purpose,  and  after- 
wards told  her  that  it  had  all  been  done,  as  prom- 
ised, and  that  I  had  escaped  to  New  Spain.  It  is 
because  of  this,  my  Lord  Buckingham,  that  I  now 
denounce  you  as  a  liar,  a  coward  and  a  perjured 
knight,  and  demand  of  you  such  satisfaction  as  one 
man  can  give  to  another  for  mortal  injury.  If  you 
refuse,  I  will  kill  you  as  I  would  a  cut-throat  the 
next  time  I  meet  you." 

"I  care  nothing  for  your  rant,  fellow,  but  out  of 
^consideration  for  the  feelings  which  your  fancied 
injuries  have  put  into  your  heart,  I  tell  you  that  7 
did  what  I  could  to  liberate  you,  and  received  from 
the  keeper  a  promise  that  you  should  be  allowed 
to  escape.  After  that  a  certain  letter  addressed 
to  you  was  discovered  and  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  king — a  matter  in  which  I  had  no  part.  As  to 
your  confinement  and  non-communication  with  your 


A  CirV^  Consent  221 

friends,  that  was  at  his  majesty's  command  after 
he  had  seen  the  letter,  as  he  will  most  certainly  con- 
firm to  you.  I  say  this  for  my  own  sake,  not  that 
I  care  what  you  may  say  or  think." 

This  offer  of  confirmation  by  the  king  made  it  all 
sound  like  the  truth,  so  much  will  even  a  little  truth 
leaven  a  great  lie ;  and  part  of  Brandon's  sails  came 
down  against  the  mast.  The  whole  statement  sur- 
prised him,  and,  most  of  all,  the  intercepted  letter. 
What  letter  could  it  have  been?  It  was  puzzling, 
and  yet  he  dared  not  ask. 

As  the  duke  was  about  to  walk  away,  Brandon 
stopped  him  :  "One  moment,  your  grace  ;  I  am  will- 
ing to  admit  what  you  have  said,  for  I  am  not  now 
prepared  to  contradict  it ;  but  there  is  yet  another 
matter  we  have  to  settle.  You  attacked  me  on  horse- 
back, and  tried  to  murder  me  in  order  to  abduct 
two  ladies  that  night  over  in  Billingsgate.  That 
you  cannot  deny.  I  watched  you  follow  the  ladies 
from  Bridewell  to  Grouche's,  and  saw  your  face 
when  your  mask  fell  off  during  the  melee  as  plainly 
as  I  see  it  now.  If  other  proof  is  wanting,  there  is 
that  sprained  knee  upon  which  your  horse  fell, 
causing  you  to  limp  even  yet.  I  am  sure  now  that 
my  lord  will  meet  me  like  a  man ;  or  would  he  pre- 
fer that  I  should  go  to  the  king  and  tell  him  and 
the  world  the  whole  shameful  story?  I  have  con- 
cealed it  heretofore,  thinking  it  my  personal  right 
and  privilege  to  settle  with  you." 

Buckingham  turned  a  shade  paler  as  he  replied: 


222    XOhen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Flobtter 

"I  do  not  meet  such  as  you  on  the  field  of  honor, 
and  have  no  fear  of  your  slander  injuring  me." 

He  felt  secure  in  the  thought  that  the  girls  did 
not  know  who  had  attacked  them,  and  could  not 
corroborate  Brandon  in  his  accusation,  or  Mary, 
surely,  never  would  have  appealed  to  him  for  help. 

I  was  with  Brandon — at  a  little  distance,  that  is — 
when  this  occurred,  and  after  Buckingham  had  left, 
we  went  to  find  the  girls  in  the  forest.  We  knew 
they  would  be  looking  for  us,  although  they  would 
pretend  surprise  when  they  saw  us.  We  soon  met 
them,  and  the  very  leaves  of  the  trees  gave  a  soft, 
contented  rustle  in  response  to  Mary's  low,  mel- 
low laugh  of  joy. 

After  perhaps  half  an  hour,  we  encountered 
Buckingham  with  his  lawyer-knight,  Johnson.  They 
had  evidently  walked  out  to  this  quiet  path  to  con- 
sult about  the  situation.  As  they  approached,  Mary 
spoke  to  the  duke  with  a  vicious  sparkle  in  her 
eyes. 

"My  Lord  Buckingham,  this  shall  cost  you  your 
head;  remember  my  words  when  you  are  on  the 
scaffold,  just  when  your  neck  fits  into  the  hollow 
of  the  block." 

He  stopped,  with  an  evident  desire  to  explain,  but 
Mary  pointed  down  the  path  and  said:  "Go,  or  I 
will  have  Master  Brandon  spit  you  on  his  sword. 
Two  to  one  would  be  easy  odds  compared  with  the 
four  to  one  you  put  against  him  in  Billingsgate. 
Got"    And  the  battle  was  over,  the  foe  never  hav- 


A  CirVj  Consent  223 

ing  struck  a  blow.  It  hurt  me  that  Mary  should 
speak  of  the  odds  being  two  to  one  against  Brandon 
when  I  was  at  hand.  It  is  true  I  was  not  very 
large,  but  I  could  have  taken  care  of  a  lawyer. 

Now  it  was  that  the  lawyer-knight  earned  his 
bread  by  his  wits,  for  it  was  he,  I  know,  who  insti- 
gated the  next  move — a  master  stroke  in  its  way, 
and  one  which  proved  a  checkmate  to  us.  It  was 
this:  the  duke  went  at  once  to  the  king,  and,  in  a 
tone  of  injured  innocence,  told  him  of  the  charge 
made  by  Brandon  with  Mary's  evident  approval, 
and  demanded  redress  for  the  slander.  Thus  it 
seemed  that  the  strength  of  our  position  was  about 
to  be  turned  against  us.  Brandon  was  at  once  sum- 
moned and  promptly  appeared  before  the  king,  only 
too  anxious  to  confront  the  duke.  As  to  the  con- 
finement of  Brandon  and  his  secret  trial,  the  king 
did  not  care  to  hear ;  that  was  a  matter  of  no  con- 
sequence to  him ;  the  important  question  was,  did 
Buckingham  attack  the  princess? 

Brandon  told  the  whole  straight  story,  exactly 
as  it  was,  which  Buckingham  as  promptly  denied, 
and  offered  to  prove  by  his  almoner  that  he  was 
at  his  devotions  on  the  night  and  at  the  hour  of 
the  attack.  So  here  was  a  conflict  of  evidence  which 
called  for  new  witnesses,  and  Henry  asked  Brandon 
if  the  girls  had  seen  and  recognized  the  duke.  To 
this  question,  of  course,  he  was  compelled  to  answer 
no,  and  the  whole  accusation,  after  all,  rested  upon 
Brandon's  word,  against  which,  on  the  other  hand. 


234    tOhen  Kjnighihood  Was  in  Flotutr 

was  the  evidence  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  and 
his  convenient  almoner. 

All  this  disclosed  to  the  full  poor  Mary's  anxiety 
to  help  Brandon,  and  the  duke  having  adroitly  let 
out  the  fact  that  he  had  just  met  the  princess  with 
Brandon  at  a  certain  secluded  spot  in  the  forest, 
Henry's  suspicion  of  her  partiality  received  new 
force,  and  he  began  to  look  upon  the  unfortunate 
Brandon  as  a  partial  cause,  at  least,  of  Mary's  aver- 
sion to  the  French  marriage. 

Henry  grew  angry  and  ordered  Brandon  to  leave 
the  court,  with  the  sullen  remark  that  it  was  only 
his  services  to  the  Princess  Mary  that  saved  him 
from  a  day  with  papers  on  the  pillory. 

This  was  not  by  any  means  what  Brandon  had 
expected.  There  seemed  to  be  a  fatality  for  him 
about  everything  connected  with  that  unfortunate 
trip  to  Grouche's.  He  had  done  his  duty,  and  this 
was  his  recompense.  Virtue  is  sometimes  a  pitiful 
reward  for  itself,  notwithstanding  much  wisdom 
to  the  contrary. 

Henry  was  by  no  means  sure  that  his  suspicions 
concerning  Mary's  heart  were  correct,  and  in  all 
he  had  heard  he  had  not  one  substantial  fact  upon 
which  to  base  conviction.  He  had  not  seen  her  with 
Brandon  since  their  avowal,  or  he  would  have  had 
a  fact  in  every  look,  the  truth  in  every  motion,  a 
demonstration  in  every  glance.  She  seemed  pow- 
erless even  to  attempt  concealment.  In  Brandon's 
handsome   manliness  and   evident   superiority,  the 


A  Girts  Consent  225 

king  thought  he  saw  a  very  clear  possibUity  for 
Mary  to  love,  and  where  there  is  such  a  possibility 
for  a  girl,  she  usually  fails  to  fulfill  expectations. 
I  suppose  there  are  more  wrong  guesses  as  to  the 
sort  of  man  a  given  woman  will  fall  in  love  with 
than  on  any  other  subject  of  equal  importance  in  the 
whole  range  of  human  surmising.  Tt  did  not,  how- 
ever, strike  the  king  that  way,  and  he,  in  common 
with  most  other  sons  of  Adam,  supposing  that  he 
knew  all  about  it,  marked  Brandon  as  a  very  possi- 
ble and  troublesome  personage.  For  once  in  the 
history  of  the  world  a  man  had  hit  upon  the  truth 
in  this  obscure  matter,  although  he  had  no  idea  how 
correct  he  was. 

Now,  all  this  brought  Brandon  into  the  deep 
shadow  of  the  royal  frown,  and,  like  many  another 
man,  he  sank  his  fortune  in  the  fathomless  depths 
of  a  woman's  heart,  and  thought  himself  rich  in 
doing  it. 


CHATTE'R  jriV 

In  the  Siren  Country 

WITH  the  king,  admiration  stood  for  affec- 
tion, a  mistake  frequently  made  by  people 
not  given  to  self-analysis,  and  in  a  day  or 
two  a  reaction  set  in  toward  Brandon  which  inspired 
a  desire  to  make  some  amends  for  his  harsh  treat- 
ment. This  he  could  not  do  to  any  great  extent, 
on  Buckingham's  account;  at  least,  not  until  the 
London  loan  was  in  his  coffers,  but  the  fact  that 
Brandon  was  going  to  New  Spain  so  soon  and 
would  be  out  of  the  way,  both  of  Mary's  eyes  and 
Mary's  marriage,  stimulated  that  rare  flower  in 
Henry's  heart,  a  good  resolve,  and  Brandon  was 
offered  his  old  quarters  with  me  until  such  time 
as  he  should  sail  for  New  Spain. 

He  had  never  abandoned  this  plan,  and  now  that 
matters  had  taken  this  turn  with  Mary  and  the 
king,  his  resolution  was  stronger  than  ever,  in  that 
the  scheme  held  two  recommendations  and  a  possi- 
bility. 

The  recommendations  were,  first,  it  would  take 
him  away  from  Mary,  with  whom — when  out  of  the 
inspiring  influence  of  her  buoyant  hopefulness — he 
knew  marriage  to  be  utterly  impossible;  and 
second,  admitting  and  facing  that  impossibility,  he 

might  find  at  least  partial  relief  from  his  heartache 

(226) 


In  the  Siren  Country  22y 

in  the  stirring  events  and  adventures  of  that  fax- 
away  land  of  monsters,  dragons,  savages  and  gold. 
The  possibility  lay  in  the  gold,  and  a  very  faintly 
burning  flame  of  hope  held  out  the  still  more  faintly 
glimmering  chance  that  fortune,  finding  him  there 
almost  alone,  might,  for  lack  of  another  lover,  smile 
upon  him  by  way  of  squaring  accounts.  She  might 
lead  him  to  a  cavern  of  gold,  and  gold  would  do 
anything;  even,  perhaps,  purchase  so  priceless  a 
treasure  as  a  certain  princess  of  the  blood  royal. 
He  did  not,  however,  dwell  much  on  this  possibility, 
but  kept  the  delightful  hope  well  neutralized  with  a 
constantly  present  sense  of  its  improbability,  in 
order  to  save  the  pain  of  a  long  fall  w^hen  disap- 
pointment should  come. 

Brandon  at  once  accepted  the  king's  offer  of  lodg- 
ing in  the  palace,  for  now  that  he  felt  sure  of  him- 
self in  the  matter  of  New  Spain,  and  his  separation 
from  Mar)',  he  longed  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of 
her  before  the  light  went  out  forever,  even  though 
it  were  playing  with  death  itself  to  do  so. 

Poor  fellow,  his  suffering  was  so  acute  during 
this  period  that  it  affected  me  like  a  contagion. 

It  did  not  make  a  mope  of  him,  but  came  in 
spasms  that  almost  drove  him  wild.  He  would  at 
times  pace  the  room  and  cr>'  out :  "J^su !  Casko- 
den,  what  shall  I  do?  She  will  be  the  wife  of  the 
French  king,  and  I  shall  sit  in  the  wilderness  and 
try  every  moment  to  imagine  what  she  is  doing  and 
thinking.     I   shall  find  the  bearing  of  Paris,  and 


228   XUhen  Kjii^hlhood  Wa^  in  f^lottter 

look  in  her  direction  until  my  brain  melts  in  my 
effort  to  see  her,  and  then  I  shall  wander  in  the 
woods,  a  suffering  imbecile,  feeding  on  roots  and 
nuts.  Would  to  God  one  of  us  might  die.  If  it 
were  not  selfish,  I  should  wish  I  might  be  the  one." 

I  said  nothing  in  answer  to  these  outbursts,  as 
I  had  no  consolation  to  offer. 

We  had  two  or  three  of  our  little  meetings  of 
four,  dangerous  as  they  were,  at  which  Mary,  feel- 
ing that  each  time  she  saw  Brandon  might  be  the 
last,  would  sit  and  look  at  him  with  glowing  eyes 
that  in  turn  softened  and  burned  as  he  spoke.  She 
did  not  talk  much,  but  devoted  all  her  time  and 
energies  to  looking  with  her  whole  soul.  Never 
before  or  since  was  there  a  girl  so  much  in  love.  A 
young  girl  thoroughly  in  love  is  the  most  beautiful 
object  on  earth — beautiful  even  in  ugliness.  Imag- 
ine, then,  what  it  mar'e  of  Mary! 

Growing  partly,  perhaps,  out  of  his  unattainabil- 
ity — for  he  was  as  far  out  of  her  reach  as  she  out 
of  his — she  had  long  since  begun  to  worship  him. 
She  had  learned  to  know  him  so  well,  and  his  valiant 
defense  of  her  in  Billingsgate,  together  with  his 
noble  self-sacrifice  in  refusing  to  compromise  her  in 
order  to  save  himself,  had  presented  him  to  her  in 
so  noble  a  light  that  she  had  come  to  look  up  to  him 
as  her  superior.  Her  surrender  had  been  complete, 
and  she  found  in  it  a  joy  far  exceeding  that  of  any 
victory  or  triumph  she  could  imagine. 

I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  what  would  be 


In  the  Siren  Country  22^ 

the  outcome  of  it  all.  Mary  was  one  woman  in  ten 
thousand,  so  full  was  she  of  feminine  force  and  will 
— a  force  which  we  men  pretend  to  despise,  but  to 
which  in  the  end  we  always  succumb. 

Like  most  women,  the  princess  was  not  much 
given  to  analysis ;  and,  I  think,  secretly  felt  that 
this  matter  of  so  great  moment  to  her  would,  as 
everything  else  always  had,  eventually  turn  itself 
to  her  desire.  She  could  not  see  the  way,  but,  to 
her  mind,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  it ;  fate 
was  her  friend  ;  always  had  been,  and  surely  always 
would  be. 

With  Brandon  it  was  different ;  experience  as  to 
how  the  ardently  hoped  for  usually  turns  out  to  be 
the  sadly  regretted,  together  with  a  thorough  face- 
to-face  analysis  of  the  situation,  showed  him  the 
truth,  all  too  clearly,  and  he  longed  for  the  day 
when  he  should  go,  as  a  sufferer  longs  for  the  sur- 
geon's knife  that  is  to  relieve  him  of  an  aching  limb. 
The  hopelessness  of  the  outlook  had  for  the  time 
destroyed  nearly  all  of  his  combativeness,  and  had 
softened  his  nature  almost  to  apathetic  weakness. 
It  would  do  no  good  to  struggle  in  a  boundless,  fath- 
omless sea ;  so  he  was  ready  to  sink  and  was  going 
to  New  Spain  to  hope  no  more. 

Mary  did  not  see  what  was  to  prevent  the  sepa- 
ration, but  this  did  not  trouble  her  as  much  as  one 
would  suppose,  and  she  was  content  to  let  events 
take  their  own  way,  hoping  and  believing  that  in 
the  end  it  would  be  hers.     Events,  however,  con- 


230  XSJhen  K.nighihood  Wa>s  in  Flob^er 

tinued  in  this  wrong  course  so  long  and  persistently 
that  at  last  the  truth  dawned  upon  her  and  she 
began  to  doubt;  and  as  time  flew  on  and  matters 
evinced  a  disposition  to  grow  worse  instead  of  bet- 
ter, she  gradually,  like  the  sun-dial  in  the  moon- 
light, awakened  to  the  fact  that  there  was 
something  wrong;  a  cog  loose  somewhere  in  the 
complicated  machinery  of  fate — the  fate  which  had 
always  been  her  tried,  trusted  and  obedient  ser- 
vant. 

The  trouble  began  in  earnest  with  the  discovery 
of  our  meetings  in  Lady  Mary's  parlor.  There  was 
nothing  at  all  unusual  in  the  fact  that  small  com- 
panies of  young  folk  frequently  spent  their  even- 
ings with  her,  but  we  knew  well  enough  that  the 
unusual  element  in  our  parties  was  their  exceeding 
smallness.  A  company  of  eight  or  ten  young  per- 
sons was  well  enough,  although  it,  of  course,  created 
jealousy  on  the  part  of  those  who  were  left  out; 
but  four — two  of  each  sex — made  a  difference  in 
kind,  however  much  we  might  insist  it  was  only  in 
degree;  and  this  we  soon  learned  was  the  king's 
opinion. 

You  may  be  sure  there  was  many  a  jealous  person 
about  the  court  ready  to  carry  tales,  and  that  it  was 
impossible  long  to  keep  our  meetings  secret  among 
such  a  host  as  then  lived  in  Greenwich  palace. 

One  day  the  queen  summoned  Jane  and  put  her 
to  the  question.  Now,  Jane  thought  the  truth  was 
made  only  to  be  told,  a  fallacy  into  which  many 


In  the  Siren  Country  231 

good  people  have  fallen,  to  their  utter  destruction; 
since  the  truth,  like  every  other  good  thing,  may 
be  abused. 

Well !  Jane  told  it  all  in  a  moment,  and  Catherine 
was  so  horrified  that  she  was  like  to  faint.  She  went 
with  her  hair-lifting  horror  to  the  king,  and  poured 
into  his  ears  a  tale  of  imprudence  and  debauchery 
well  calculated  to  start  his  righteous,  virtue- 
prompted  indignation  into  a  threatening  flame. 

Mary,  Jane,  Brandon  and  myself  were  at  once 
summoned  to  the  presence  of  both  their  majesties 
and  soundly  reprimanded.  Three  of  us  were  or- 
dered to  leave  the  court  before  we  could  speak  a 
word  in  self-defense,  and  Jane  had  enough  of  her 
favorite  truth  for  once.  !Mary,  however,  came  to 
our  rescue  with  her  coaxing  eloquence  and  potent, 
feminine  logic,  and  soon  convinced  Henry  that  the 
queen,  who  really  counted  for  little  with  him,  had 
made  a  mountain  out  of  a  very  small  mole-hill.  Thus 
the  royal  wrath  was  appeased  to  such  an  extent  that 
the  order  for  expulsion  was  modified  to  a  command 
that  there  be  no  more  quartette  gatherings  in  Prin- 
cess Mary's  parlor.  This  leniency  was  more  easy  for/ 
the  princess  to  bring  about,  by  reason  of  the  fact 
that  she  had  not  spoken  to  her  brother  since  the 
day  she  went  to  see  him  after  Wolsey's  visit,  and 
had  been  so  roughly  driven  oflf.  At  first,  upon  her 
refusal  to  speak  to  him — after  the  Wolsey  visit — 
Henry  was  angry  on  account  of  what  he  called  her 
insolence ;  but  as  she  did  not  seem  to  care  for  that, 


232   X&}hen  Kjitghthood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

and  as  his  anger  did  nothing  toward  unsealing  her 
lips,  he  pretended  indifference.  Still  the  same  stub- 
born silence  was  maintained.  This  soon  began  to 
amuse  the  king,  and  of  late  he  had  been  trying  to 
be  on  friendly  terms  again  with  his  sister  through  a 
series  of  elephantine  antics  and  bear-like  pleas- 
antries, which  were  the  most  dismal  failures — that 
is,  in  the  way  of  bringing  about  a  reconciliation. 
They  were  more  successful  from  a  comical  point 
of  view.  So  Henry  was  really  glad  for  something 
that  would  loosen  the  tongue  usually  so  lively,  and 
for  an  opportunity  to  gratify  his  sister  from  whom 
he  was  dem.anding  such  a  sacrifice,  and  for  whom 
he  expected  to  receive  no  less  a  price  than  the  help 
of  Louis  of  France,  the  most  powerful  king  of  Eu- 
rope, to  the  imperial  crown. 

Thus  our  meetings  were  broken  up,  and  Brandon 
knew  his  dream  was  over,  and  that  any  effort  to  see 
the  princess  would  probably  result  in  disaster  for 
them  both;    for  him  certainly. 

The  king  upon  that  same  day  told  Mary  of  the 
intercepted  letter  sent  by  her  to  Brandon  at  New- 
gate, and  accused  her  of  what  he  was  pleased  to  1 
^erm  an  improper  feeling  for  a  low-born  fellow. 

Mary  at  once  sent  a  full  account  of  the  communi- 
cation in  a  letter  to  Brandon,  who  read  it  with  no 
small  degree  of  ill  comfort  as  the  harbinger  of 
trouble. 

"I  had  better  leave  here  soon,  or  I  may  go  without 
my  head,"  he  remarked.    "When  that  thought  gets 


In  the  Siren  Country  233 

to  working  in  the  king's  brain,  he  will  strike,  and 
I— shall  fall." 

Letters  began  to  come  to  our  rooms  from  Mary, 
at  first  begging  Brandon  to  come  to  her,  and  then 
upbraiding  him  because  of  his  coldness  and  cow- 
ardice, and  telling  him  that  if  he  cared  for  her  as 
she  did  for  him,  he  would  see  her,  though  he  had 
to  wade  through  fire  and  blood.    That  was  exactly 
where  the  trouble  lay ;    it  was  not  fire  and  blood 
through  which  he  would  have  to  pass;   they  were 
small  matters,  mere  nothings  that  would  really  have 
added  zest  and  interest  to  the  achievement.     But 
the  frowning  laugh  of  the  tyrant,  who  could  bind 
him  hand  and  foot,  and  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the 
Newgate  dungeon,  with  a  dangling  noose  or  a  hol- 
lowed-out  block  in  the  near  background,  were  mat- 
ters that  would  have  taken  the  adventurous  tendency 
out  of  even  the  cracked  brain  of  chivalry   itself, 
Brandon  cared  only  to  fight  where  there  was  a  pos- 
sible victory  or  ransom,  or  a  prospect  of  some  sort, 
at  least,  of  achieving  success.     Bayard  preferred  a 
stone  wall,  and  thought  to  show  his  brains  by  beat- 
ing them  out  against  it,  and  in  a  sense  he  could  do 
it.     *     *     *     What    a    pity    this    senseless,    stiff- 
kneed,  light-headed  chivalry  did  not  beat  its  brains 
out  several   centuries  before  Bayard  put  such  an 
absurd  price  upon  himself. 

So  every  phase  of  the  question  which  his  good 
sense  presented  told  Brandon,  whose  passion  was  as 
ardent  though  not  so  impatient  as  Mary's,  that  it 


234   ^S£}hen  Kjni^hthood  Wa-s  in  F^lotater 

would  be  worse  than  foolhardy  to  try  to  see  her. 
He,  however,  had  determined  to  see  her  once  more 
before  he  left,  but  as  it  could,  in  all  probability,  be 
only  once,  he  was  reserving  the  meeting  until  the 
last,  and  had  written  Mary  that  it  was  their  best 
and  only  chance. 

This  brought  to  Mary  a  stinging  realization  of  the 
fact  that  Brandon  was  about  to  leave  her  and  that 
she  would  lose  him  if  something  were  not  done 
quickly.  Now  for  Mary,  after  a  life  of  gratified 
whims,  to  lose  the  very  thing  she  wanted  most  of 
all — that  for  which  she  would  willingly  have  given 
up  every  other  desire  her  heart  had  ever  coined — 
was  a  thought  hardly  to  be  endured.  She  felt  that 
the  world  would  surely  collapse.  It  could  not,  would 
not,  should  not  be. 

Her  vigorous  young  nerves  were  too  strong  to  be 
benumbed  by  an  overwhelming  agony,  as  is  some- 
times t1  -e  case  with  those  who  are  fortunate  enough 
to  be  weaker,  so  she  had  to  suffer  and  endure.  Life 
itself,  yes,  life  a  thousand  times,  was  slipping  away 
from  her.  She  must  be  doing  something  or  she 
would  perish.  Poor  Mary !  How  a  grand  soul  like 
hers,  full  of  faults  and  weakness,  can  suffer !  What 
an  infinite  disproportion  between  her  susceptibility 
to  pain  and  her  power  to  combat  it!  She  had  the 
maximum  capacity  for  one  and  the  minimum 
strength  for  the  other.  No  wonder  it  drove  her 
almost  mad — that  excruciating  pang  of  love. 

She  could  not  endure  inaction,  so  she  did  the 


In  the  Siren  Country  235 

worst  thing  possible.  She  went  alone,  one  after- 
noon, just  before  dusk,  to  see  Brandon  at  our  rooms. 
I  was  not  there  when  she  first  went  in,  but,  having 
seen  her  on  the  way,  suspected  something  and  fol- 
lowed, arriving  two  or  three  minutes  after  her.  I 
knew  it  was  best  that  I  should  be  present,  and 
was  sure  Brandon  would  wish  it.  When  I 
entered  they  were  holding  each  other's  hands,  in 
silence.  They  had  not  yet  found  their  tongues, 
so  full  and  crowded  were  their  hearts.  It  was  pa- 
thetic to  see  them,  especially  the  girl,  who  had  not 
Brandon's  hopelessness  to  deaden  the  pain  by  par- 
tial resignation. 

Upon  my  entrance,  she  dropped  his  hands  and 
turned  quickly  toward  me  with  a  frightened  look, 
but  was  reassured  upon  seeing  who  it  was.  Bran- 
don mechanically  walked  away  from  her  and  seated 
himself  on  a  stool.  ^Mary,  as  mechanically,  moved 
to  his  side  and  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
Turning  her  face  toward  me,  she  said :  "Sir  Edwin, 
I  know  you  will  forgive  me  when  I  tell  you  that  we 
have  a  great  deal  to  say  and  wish  to  be  alone." 

I  was  about  to  go  when  Brandon  stopped  me. 

"No,  no ;  Caskoden,  please  stay ;  it  would  not 
do.  It  would  be  bad  enough,  God  knows,  if  the 
princess  should  be  found  here  with  both  of  us ; 
but,  with  me  alone,  I  should  be  dead  before  morn- 
ing. There  is  danger  enough  as  it  is,  for  they  will 
watch  us." 

Mary  knew  he  was  right,  but  she  could  not  resist 


236   XOhen  Kjni^hthood  W<w  in  Flower 

a  vicious  little  glance  toward  me,  who  was  in  no 
way  to  blame. 

Presently  we  all  moved  into  the  window-way, 
where  Brandon  and  Mary  sat  upon  the  great  cloak 
and  I  on  a  camp-stool  in  front  of  them,  completely 
filling  up  the  little  passage. 

"I  can  bear  this  no  longer,"  exclaimed  Mary.  "I 
will  go  to  my  brother  to-night  and  tell  him  all;  I 
will  tell  him  how  I  suffer,  and  that  I  shall  die  if 
you  are  allowed  to  go  away  and  leave  me  forever. 
He  loves  me,  and  I  can  do  anything  with  him  when 
I  try.  I  know  I  can  obtain  his  consent  to  our — 
our — marriage.  He  cannot  know  how  I  suffer,  else 
he  would  not  treat  me  so.  I  will  let  him  see — I  will 
convince  him.  I  have  in  my  mind  everything  I 
want  to  say  and  do.  I  will  sit  on  his  knee  and  stroke 
his  hair  and  kiss  him."  And  she  laughed  softly  as 
her  spirit  revived  in  the  breath  of  a  growing  hope. 
"Then  I  will  tell  him  how  handsome  he  is,  and  how 
I  hear  the  ladies  sighing  for  him,  and  he  will  come 
around  all  right  by  the  third  visit.  Oh,  I  know 
how  to  do  it;  I  have  done  it  so  often.  Never 
fear !  I  wish  I  had  gone  at  it  long  ago. 

Her  enthusiastic  fever  of  hope  was  really  con- 
tagious, but  Brandon,  whose  life  was  at  stake,  had 
his  wits  quickened  by  the  danger. 

"Mary,  would  you  like  to  see  me  a  corpse  before 
to-morrow  noon?"  he  asked. 

"Why!  of  course  not;  why  do  you  ask  such  a 
dreadful  question?" 


in  the  Siren  Country  237 

"Because,  if  you  wish  to  make  sure  of  it,  do  what 
you  have  just  said — go  to  the  king  and  tell  him  all. 
I  doubt  if  he  could  wait  till  morning.  I  believe  he 
would  awaken  me  at  midnight  to  put  me  to  sleep 
forever — at  the  end  of  a  rope  or  on  a  block  pillow." 

"Oh!  no!  you  are  all  wrong;  I  know  what  I  can 
do  with  Henry." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  I  say  good-bye  now,  for  I 
shall  be  out  of  England,  if  possible,  by  midnight. 
You  must  promise  me  that  you  will  not  only  not  go 
to  the  king  at  all  about  this  matter,  but  that  you  will 
guard  your  tongue,  jealous  of  its  slightest  word, 
and  remember  with  every  breath  that  on  your  pru- 
dence hangs  my  life,  which,  I  know,  is  dear  to  you. 
Do  you  promise  ?  If  you  do  not,  I  must  fly  ;  so  you 
will  lose  me  one  way  or  the  other,  if  you  tell  the 
king;   either  by  my  flight  or  by  my  death." 

"I  promise,"  said  Mary,  with  drooping  head;  the 
embodiment  of  despair ;  all  life  and  hope  having 
left  her  again. 

After  a  few  minutes  her  face  brightened,  and  she 
asked  Brandon  what  ship  he  would  sail  in  for  New 
Spain,  and  whence. 

"We  sail  in  the  Royal  Hind,  from  Bristol,"  he 
replied. 

"How  many  go  out  in  her;  and  are  there  any 
women?" 

"No!  no!"  he  returned;  "no  woman  could  make 
the  trip,  and,  besides,  on  ships  of  that  sort,  half 
pirate,  half  merchant,  they  do  not  take  women.    The 


238   XOhen  Kjitghihood  Wa>s  in  Flotoer 

sailors  are  superstitious  about  it  and  will  not  sail 
with  them.  They  say  they  bring  bad  luck — adverse 
winds,  calms,  storms,  blackness,  monsters  from  the 
deep  and  victorious  foes." 

"The  ignorant  creatures !"  cried  Mary. 

Brandon  continued:  "There  will  be  a  hundred 
men,  if  the  captain  can  induce  so  many  to  enlist." 

"How  does  one  procure  passage?"  inquired  Mary. 

"By  enlisting  with  the  captain,  a  man  named 
Bradhurst,  at  Bristol,  where  the  ship  is  now  lying. 
There  is  where  I  enlisted  by  letter.  But  why  do 
you  ask?" 

"Oh !  I  only  wanted  to  know." 

We  talked  awhile  on  various  topics,  but  Mary 
always  brought  the  conversation  back  to  the  same 
subject,  the  Royal  Hind  and  New  Spain.  After 
asking  many  questions,  she  sat  in  silence  for  a  time, 
and  then  abruptly  broke  into  one  of  my  sentences 
— she  was  always  interrupting  me  as  if  I  were  a 
parrot. 

"I  have  been  thinking  and  have  made  up  my 
mind  what  I  will  do,  and  you  shall  not  dissuade 
me.  I  will  go  to  New  Spain  with  you.  That 
will  be  glorious — far  better  than  the  humdrum  life\ 
©f  sitting  at  home — and  will  solve  the  whole 
question." 

"But  that  would  be  impossible,  Mary,"  said 
Brandon,  into  whose  face  this  new  evidence  of  her 
regard  had  brought  a  brightening  look;  "utterly 
impossible.    To  begin  with,  no  woman  could  stand 


/n  the  Siren  Country  239 

the  voyage ;  not  even  you,  strong  and  vigorous  as 
you  are." 

"Oh,  yes  I  can,  and  I  will  not  allow  you  to  stop 
me  for  that  reason.  I  could  bear  any  hardship 
better  than  the  torture  of  the  last  few  woeks.  In 
truth,  I  cannot  bear  this  at  all ;  it  is  kiUing  me,  so 
what  would  it  be  when  you  are  gone  and  I  am  the 
wife  of  Louis?  Think  of  that,  Charles  Brandon; 
think  of  that,  when  I  am  the  wife  of  Louis.  Even 
if  the  voyage  kills  me,  I  might  as  well  die  one  way 
as  another;  and  then  I  should  be  with  you,  where 
it  were  sweet  to  die."  And  I  had  to  sit  there  and 
listen  to  all  this  foolish  talk ! 

Brandon  insisted:  "But  no  women  are  going; 
as  I  told  you,  they  would  not  take  one ;  besides, 
how  could  you  escape  ?  I  will  answer  the  first  ques- 
tion you  ever  asked  me.  You  are  of  'sufficient  con- 
sideration about  the  court'  for  all  your  movements 
to  attract  notice.  It  is  impossible ;  we  must  not 
think  of  it ;  it  cannot  be  done.  Why  build  up  hopes 
only  to  be  cast  down?" 

"Oh !  but  it  can  be  done ;  never  doubt  it.  I  will 
go,  not  as  a  woman,  but  as  a  man.  I  have  planned 
all  the  details  while  sitting  here.  To-morrow  I 
will  send  to  Bristol  a  sum  of  money  asking  a  sepa- 
rate room  in  the  ship  for  a  young  nobleman  who 
wishes  to  go  to  New  Spain  incognito,  and  will  go 
aboard  just  before  they  sail.  I  will  buy  a  man's 
complete  outfit,  and  will  practice  being  a  man  before 
you  and  Sir  Edwin."     Here  she  blushed  so  that  I 


240   t£}hen  Kjiighthood  Was  in  Flottaer 

could  see  the  scarlet  even  in  the  gathering  gloom. 
She  continued :  "As  to  my  escape,  I  can  go  to  Wind- 
sor, and  then  perhaps  on  to  Berkeley  Castle,  over 
by  Reading,  where  there  will  be  no  one  to  watch 
me.  You  can  leave  at  once,  and  there  will  be  no 
cause  for  them  to  spy  upon  me  when  you  are  gone, 
so  it  can  be  done  easily  enough.  That  is  it ;  I  will 
go  to  my  sister,  who  is  now  at  Berkeley  Castle,  the 
other  side  of  Reading,  you  know,  and  that  will 
make  a  shorter  ride  to  Bristol  when  we  start." 

The  thought,  of  course,  could  not  but  please  Bran- 
don, to  whom,  in  the  warmth  of  Mary's  ardor,  it 
had  almost  begun  to  offer  hope;  and  he  said 
musingly:  "I  wonder  if  it  could  be  done?  If  it 
could — if  we  could  reach  New  Spain,  we  might 
build  ourselves  a  home  in  the  beautiful  green  moun- 
tains and  hide  ourselves  safely  away  from  all  the 
world,  in  the  lap  of  some  cosy  valley,  rich  with 
nature's  bounteous  gift  of  fruit  and  flowers,  shaded 
from  the  hot  sun  and  sheltered  from  the  blasts,  and 
live  in  a  little  paradise  all  our  own.  What  a  glorious 
dream !  but  it  is  only  a  dream,  and  we  had  better 
awake  from  it." 

Brandon  must  have  been  insane! 

"No !  no !  It  is  not  a  dream,"  interrupted  down- 
right, determined  Mary ;  "it  is  not  a  dream ;  it 
shall  be  a  reality.  How  glorious  it  will  be !  I  can 
see  our  little  house  now  nestling  among  the  hills, 
shaded  by  great  spreading  trees  with  flowers  and 
vines  and  golden  fruit  all  about  it,  rich  plumaged 


in  the  Siren  Country  241 

birds  and  gorgeous  butterflies.  Oh!  I  can  hardly 
wait.  Who  would  live  in  a  musty  palace  when  one 
has  within  reach  such  a  home,  and  that,  too,  with 
you? 

Here  it  was  again.  I  thought  that  interview  would 
de  the  death  of  me. 

Brandon  held  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  then 
looking  up  said:  "It  is  only  a  question  of  your 
happiness,  and  hard  as  the  voyage  and  your  life 
over  there  would  be,  yet  I  believe  it  would  be  better 
than  life  with  Louis  of  France;  nothing  could  be 
so  terrible  as  that  to  both  of  us.  If  you  wish  to 
go,  I  will  try  to  take  you,  though  I  die  in  the  at- 
tempt. There  will  be  ample  time  to  reconsider, 
so  that  you  can  turn  back  if  you  wish." 

Her  reply  was  inarticulate,  though  satisfactor)' ; 
and  she  took  his  hand  in  hers  as  the  tears  ran 
gently  down  her  cheeks ;  this  time  tears  of  joy — the 
first  she  had  shed  for  many  a  day. 

In  the  Siren  country  again  without  w^ax !  Over- 
board and  lost ! 

Yes,  Brandon's  resolution  not  to  see  Mary  was 
well  taken,  if  it  could  only  have  been  as  well  kept. 
Obser\'e,  as  we  progress,  into  what  the  breaking  of 
it  led  him. 

He  had  known  that  if  he  should  but  see  her  once 
more,  his  already  toppling  will  would  lose  its  equi- 
poise, and  he  would  be  led  to  attempt  the  impossible 
and  invite  destruction.  At  first  this  scheme  ap- 
peared to  me  in  its  true  light,  but   Mary's  subtle 


242   XOhen  Kjnighihood  Wa^s  in  Flottter 

feminine  logic  made  it  seem  such  plain  and  easy 
sailing  that  I  soon  began  to  draw  enthusiasm  from 
her  exhaustless  store,  and  our  combined  attack  upon 
Brandon  eventually  routed  every  vestige  of  caution 
and  common  sense  that  even  he  had  left. 

Siren  logic  has  always  been  irresistible  and  will 
continue  so,  no  doubt,  despite  experience. 

I  cannot  define  what  it  was  about  Mary  that 
made  her  little  speeches,  half  argumentative,  all- 
pleading,  so  wonderfully  persuasive.  Her  facts 
were  mere  fancies,  and  her  logic  was  not  even  good 
sophistry.  As  to  real  argument  and  reasoning,  there 
was  nothing  of  either  in  them.  It  must  have  been 
her  native  strength  of  character  and  intensely  vigor- 
ous personality;  some  unknown  force  of  nature, 
operating  through  her  occultly,  that  turned  the 
channels  of  other  persons'  thoughts  and  filled  them 
with  her  own  will.  There  was  magic  in  her  power, 
I  am  certain,  but  unconscious  magic  to  Mary,  I  am 
equally  sure.  She  never  would  have  used  it  know- 
ingly. 

There  was  still  another  obstacle  to  which  Mary 
administered  her  favorite  remedy,  the  Gordian  knot 
treatment.  Brandon  said :  "It  cannot  be ;  you  are 
not  my  wife,  and  we  dare  not  trust  a  priest  here  to 
unite  us." 

"No,"  replied  Mary,  with  hanging  head,  "but 
we  can — can  find  one  over  there." 

"I  do  not  know  how  that  will  be ;  we  shall  prob- 
ably not  find  one ;  at  least,  I  fear ;  I  do  not  know."' 


2n  the  Siren  Country  243 

After  a  little  hesitation  she  answered:  "I  will 
go  with  you  anyway — and — and  risk  it.  I  hope  we 
may  find  a  priest,"  and  she  flushed  scarlet  from  her 
throat  to  her  hair. 

Brandon  kissed  her  and  said :  "You  shall  go,  my 
brave  girl.  You  make  me  blush  for  my  faint-heart- 
edness  and  prudence.  I  will  make  you  my  wife  in 
some  way  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God." 

Soon  after  this  Brandon  forced  himself  to  insist 
on  her  departure,  and  I  went  with  her,  full  of  hope 
and  completely  blinded  to  the  dangers  of  our  cher- 
ished scheme.  I  think  Brandon  never  really  lost 
sight  of  the  danger,  and  almost  infinite  proportion 
of  chance  against  this  wild,  reckless  venture,  but 
was  daring  enough  to  attempt  it  even  in  the  face 
of  such  clearly  seen  and  deadly  consequences. 

What  seems  to  be  bravery,  as  in  Mary's  case,  for 
example,  is  often  but  a  lack  of  perception  of  the  real 
danger.  True  bravery  is  that  which  dares  a  danger 
fully  seeing  it.  A  coward  may  face  an  unseen  dan- 
ger, and  his  act  may  shine  with  the  luster  of  genu- 
ine heroism.  Mary  was  brave,  but  it  was  the  femi- 
nine bravery  that  did  not  see.  Show  her  a  danger 
and  she  was  womanly  enough — that  is,  if  you  could 
make  her  see  it.  Her  wilfulness  sometimes  extended 
to  her  mental  vision  and  she  would  not  see.  In 
common  with  many  others,  she  needed  mental  spec- 
tacles at  times. 


CHATTB'R  jrV 

Uo  MaKe  a  Man  of  Her 

SO  it  was  all  arranged,  and  I  converted  part  of 
Mary's  jewels  into  money.  She  said  she  was 
sorry  now  she  had  not  taken  de  Longueville's 
diamonds,  as  they  would  have  added  to  her  treas- 
ure; I,  however,  procured  quite  a  large  sum,  to 
which  I  secretly  added  a  goodly  portion  out  of  my 
own  store.  At  Mary's  request  I  sent  part  to  Brad- 
hurst  at  Bristol^  and  retained  the  rest  for  Brandon 
to  take  with  him. 

A  favorable  answer  soon  came  from  Bristol,  giv- 
ing the  young  nobleman  a  separate  room  in  con- 
sideration of  the  large  purse  he  had  sent. 

The  next  step  was  to  procure  the  gentleman's 
wardrobe  for  Mary.  This  was  a  little  troublesome 
at  first,  for,  of  course,  she  could  not  be  measured 
in  the  regular  way.  We  managed  to  overcome  this 
difficulty  by  having  Jane  take  the  measurements 
under  instructions  received  from  the  tailor,  which 
measurements,  together  with  the  cloth,  I  took  to  the 
fractional  little  man  who  did  my  work. 

He  looked  at  the  measurements  with  twinkling 
eyes,  and  remarked:  "Sir  Edwin,  that  be  the  curi- 
ousest  shaped  man  ever  I  see  the  measures  of.  Sure 
it  would  make  a  mighty  handsome  woman,  or  I 
know  nothing  of  human  dimensions." 

(244) 


33 
V 


{So  MaKs  a  Man  of  Her  245 

"Never  you  mind  about  dimensions ;  make  the 
garments  as  they  are  ordered  and  keep  your  mouth 
shut,  if  you  know  what  is  to  your  interest.  Do 
you  hear?" 

He  dehvered  himself  of  a  labored  wink.  "I  do 
hear  and  understand,  too,  and  my  tongue  is  like  the 
tongue  of  an  obelisk." 

In  due  time  I  brought  the  suits  to  Mary,  and  they 
were  soon  adjusted  to  her  liking. 

The  days  passed  rapidly,  till  it  was  a  matter  of 
less  than  a  fortnight  until  the  Royal  Hind  would 
sail,  and  it  really  looked  as  if  the  adventure  might 
turn  out  to  our  desire. 

Jane  was  in  tribulation,  and  thought  she  ought  to 
be  taken  along.  This,  you  may  be  sure,  was  touch- 
ing me  very  closely,  and  I  began  to  wish  the  whole 
infernal  mess  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  If  Jane  went, 
his  august  majesty,  King  Henry  VIII,  would  be 
without  a  Master  of  the  Dance,  just  as  sure  as  the 
stars  twinkled  in  the  firmament.  It  was,  however, 
soon  decided  that  Brandon  would  have  his  hands 
more  than  full  to  get  off  with  one  woman,  and  that 
two  would  surely  spoil  the  plan.  So  Jane  was  to  be 
left  behind,  full  of  tribulation  and  indignation, firmly 
convinced  that  she  was  being  treated  very  badly. 

Although  at  first  Jane  was  violently  opposed  to 
the  scheme,  she  soon  caught  the  contagious  ardor 
of  Mary's  enthusiasm,  and  knowing  that  her  dear 
lady's  every  chance  of  happiness  was  staked  upon 
the  throw,  grew  more  reconciled.    To  a  person  of 


246  XOhen  Kjni^hthood  Wcu  in  Flofumr 

Jane's  age,  this  venture  for  love  offers  itself  as  the 
last  and  only  cast — the  cast  for  all — and  in  this  par- 
ticular case  there  was  enough  of  romance  to  catch 
the  fancy  of  any  girl.  Nothing  was  lacking  to  make 
it  truly  romantic.  The  exalted  station  of  at  least 
one  of  the  lovers ;  the  rough  road  of  their  true  love ; 
the  elopement,  and,  above  all,  the  elopement  to  a 
new  world,  with  a  cosy  hut  nestling  in  fragrant 
shades  and  glad  with  the  notes  of  love  from  the 
throats  of  countless  song-birds — what  more  could  a 
romantic  girl  desire?  So,  to  my  surprise,  Jane 
became  more  than  reconciled,  and  her  fever  of  antic- 
ipation and  excitement  grew  apace  with  Mary's  as 
the  time  drew  on. 

Mary's  vanity  was  delighted  with  her  elopement 
trousseau,  for  of  course  it  was  of  the  finest.  Not 
that  the  quality  was  better  than  her  usual  wear,  but 
doublet  and  hose  were  so  different  on  her.  She 
paraded  for  an  hour  or  so  before  Jane,  and  as  she 
became  accustomed  to  the  new  garb,  and  as  the 
steel  reflected  a  most  beautiful  image,  she  deter- 
mined to  show  herself  to  Brandon  and  me.  She  said 
she  wanted  to  become  accustomed  to  being  seen  in 
her  doublet  and  hose,  and  would  begin  with  us. 
She  thought  if  she  could  not  bear  our  gaze  she 
would  surely  make  a  dismal  failure  on  shipboard 
among  so  many  strange  men.  There  was  some  good 
reasoning  in  tliis,  and  it,  together  with  her  vanity, 
overruled  her  modesty,  and  prompted  her  to  come 
to  see  us  in  her  character  of  young  nobleman.   Jane 


Uo  Ma  fie  a  Man  of  Her  247 

made  one  of  her  mighty  protests,  so  infinitely  dispro- 
portionate in  size  to  her  little  ladyship,  but  the  self- 
willed  princess  would  not  listen  to  her,  and  was 
for  coming  alone  if  Jane  would  not  come  with  her. 
Once  having  determined,  as  usual  with  her,  she 
wasted  no  time  about  it,  but  throwing  a  long  cloak 
over  her  shoulders,  started  for  our  rooms,  with 
angry,  weeping,  protesting  Jane  at  her  heels. 

When  I  heard  the  knock  I  was  sure  it  was  the 
girls,  for  though  Mary  had  promised  Brandon  she 
would  not,  under  any  circumstances,  attempt  an- 
other visit,  I  knew  so  well  her  utter  inability  to 
combat  her  desire,  and  her  reckless  disregard  of 
danger  where  there  was  a  motive  sufficient  to  fur- 
nish the  nerve  tension,  that  I  was  sure  she  would 
come,  or  try  to  come,  again. 

I  have  spoken  before  about  the  quality  of  brav- 
ery. What  is  it,  after  all,  and  how  can  we  analyze 
it  ?  Women,  we  say,  are  cowardly,  but  I  have  seen 
a  woman  take  a  risk  that  the  bravest  man's  nerve 
would  turn  on  edge  against  How  is  it?  Can  it 
be  possible  that  they  are  braver  than  we?  That 
our  bravery  is  of  the  vaunting  kind  that  telleth  of 
itself?  My  answer,  made  up  from  a  long  life  of 
observation,  is :  "Yes !  Given  the  motive,  and  women 
are  the  bravest  creatures  on  earth."  Yet  how  fool- 
ishly timid  they  are  at  times! 

I  admitted  the  girls,  and  when  the  door  was  shut 
Mary  unclasped  the  brooch  at  her  throat  and  the 
great  cloak  fell  to  her  heels.    Out  she  stepped,  with 


a  little  laugh  of  delight,  clothed  in  doublet,  hose 
and  confusion,  the  prettiest  picture  mortal  eyes  ever 
rested  on.  Her  hat,  something  on  the  broad,  flat 
style  with  a  single  white  plume  encircling  the  crown, 
was  of  purple  velvet  trimmed  in  gold  braid  and 
touched  here  and  there  with  precious  stones.  Her 
doublet  was  of  the  same  purple  velvet  as  her  hat, 
trimmed  in  lace  and  gold  braid.  Her  short  trunks 
were  of  heavy  black  silk  slashed  by  yellow  satin, 
with  hose  of  lavender  silk;  and  her  little  shoes 
were  of  russet  French  leather.  Quite  a  rainbow, 
you  will  say — but  such  a  rainbow  1 

Brandon  and  I  were  struck  dumb  with  admiration 
and  could  not  keep  from  showing  it.  This  dis- 
concerted the  girl,  and  increased  her  embarrassment 
until  we  could  not  tell  which  was  the  prettiest — the 
garments,  the  girl  or  the  confusion;  but  this  I 
know,  the  whole  picture  was  as  sweet  and  beautiful 
as  the  eyes  of  man  could  behold. 

Fine  feathers  will  not  make  fine  birds,  and  Mary's 
masculine  attire  could  no  more  make  her  look  like 
a  man  than  harness  can  disguise  the  graces  of  a 
gazelle.  Nothing  could  conceal  her  intense,  ex- 
quisite womanhood.  With  our  looks  of  astonish- 
ment and  admiration  Mary's  blushes  deepened. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  Is  anything  wrong  ?"  she 
asked. 

"Nothing  is  wrong,"  answered  Brandon,  smiling 
in  spite  of  himself;  "nothing  on  earth  is  wrong 
yvlth  you,  you  may  be  sure.    You  are  perfect — ^that 


Uo  MaK.e  a  Man  of  Her  249 

IS,  for  a  woman ;  and  one  who  thinks  there  is  any- 
thing wrong-  about  a  perfect  woman  is  hard  to 
please.  But  if  you  flatter  yourself  that  you,  in  any 
way,  resemble  a  man,  or  that  your  dress  in  the  faint- 
est degree  conceali  your  sex,  you  are  mistaken.  It 
makes  it  only  more  apparent." 

''How  can  that  be?"  asked  Mary,  in  comical  tril>- 
ulation;  ''is  not  this  a  man's  doublet  and  hose,  and 
thts  hat — is  it  not  a  man's  hat?  They  are  all  for 
a  man ;  then  why  do  I  not  look  like  one,  I  ask?  Tell 
me  what  is  wrong.  Oh!  I  thought  I  looked  just 
like  a  man ;    I  thought  the  disguise  was  perfect." 

"Well,"  returned  Brandon,  "if  you  will  permit  me 
to  say  so,  you  are  entirely  too  symmetrical  and 
shapely  ever  to  pass  for  a  man." 

The  flaming  color  was  in  her  cheeks,  as  Brandon 
went  on :  "Your  feet  are  too  small,  even  for  a  boy*s 
feet  I  don't  think  you  could  be  made  to  look  like 
a  man  if  you  worked  from  now  till  doomsday." 

Brandon  spoke  in  a  troubled  tone,  for  he  was  be- 
ginning to  see  in  Mary's  perfect  and  irrepressible 
womanhood  an  insurmountable  difiiculty  right 
across  his  path. 

"As  to  your  feet,  you  might  find  larger  shoes, 
or,  better  still,  jack-boots;  and,  as  to  your  hose, 
you  might  wear  longer  trunks,  but  what  to  do  about 
the  doublet  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know." 

Mary  looked  up  helpless  and  forlorn,  and  the  hot 
face  went  into  her  bended  elbow  as  a  realization  of 
the  situation  seemed  to  dawn  upon  her. 


250   tOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flower 

"Oh!  I  wish  I  had  not  come.  But  I  wanted  to 
grow  accustomed  so  that  I  could  wear  them  before 
others.  I  beHeve  I  could  bear  it  more  easily  with 
any  one  else.  I  did  not  think  of  it  in  that  way,"  and 
she  snatched  her  cloak  from  where  it  had  fallen 
on  the  floor  and  threw  it  around  her. 

"What  way,  Mary?"  asked  Brandon  gently,  and 
receiving  no  answer.  "But  you  will  have  to  bear 
my  looking  at  you  all  the  time  if  you  go  with  me." 

"I  don't  believe  I  can  do  it." 

"No,  no,"  answered  he,  bravely  attempting  cheer- 
fulness; "we  may  as  well  give  it  up.  I  have  had 
no  hope  from  the  first.  I  knew  it  could  not  be  done, 
and  it  should  not.  I  was  both  insane  and  criminal 
to  think  of  permitting  you  to  try  it." 

Brandon's  forced  cheerfulness  died  out  with 
his  words,  and  he  sank  into  a  chair  with  his  el- 
bows on  his  knees  and  his  face  in  his  hands.  Mary 
ran  to  him  at  once.  There  had  been  a  little  mo- 
ment of  faltering,  but  there  was  no  real  surrender 
in  her. 

Dropping  on  her  knee  beside  him,  she  said  coax- 
ingly :  "Don't  give  up ;  you  are  a  man ;  you  must 
not  surrender,  and  let  me,  a  girl,  prove  the  stronger. 
Shame  upon  you  when  I  look  up  to  you  so  much  and 
expect  you  to  help  me  be  brave.  I  will  go.  I 
will  arrange  myself  in  some  way.  Oh  !  why  am  I  not 
different;  I  wish  I  were  as  straight  as  the  queen," 
and  for  that  first  time  in  her  life  she  bewailed  her 
beauty,  because  it  stood  between  her  and  Brandon, 


Uo  MaKjs  a  Man  of  Her  251 

She  soon  coaxed  him  out  of  his  despondency,  and 
we  began  again  to  plan  the  matter  in  detail. 

The  girls  sat  on  Brandon's  cloak  and  he  and  I 
on  the  camp-stool  and  a  box. 

Mary's  time  was  well  occupied  in  vain  attempts  to 
keep  herself  covered  with  the  cloak,  which  seemed 
to  have  a  right  good  will  toward  Brandon  and  me, 
but  she  kept  track  of  our  plans,  which,  in  brief, 
were  as  follows :  As  to  her  costume,  we  would 
substitute  long  trunks  and  jack-boots  for  shoes  and 
hose,  and  as  to  doublet,  Mary  laughed  and  blush- 
ingly  said  she  had  a  plan  which  she  would  secretly 
impart  to  Jane,  but  would  not  tell  us.  She  whis^ 
pered  it  to  Jane,  who,  as  serious  as  the  Lord  Clian- 
cellor,  gave  judgment,  and  "thought  it  would  do." 
We  hoped  so,  but  were  full  of  doubts. 

This  is  all  tame  enough  to  write  and  read  about, 
but  I  can  tell  you  it  was  sufficiently  exciting  at  the 
time.  Three  of  us  at  least  were  playing  with  that 
comical  old  fellow,  Death,  and  he  gave  the  game 
interest  and  point  to  our  hearts'  content. 

Through  the  thick  time-layers  of  all  these  years, 
I  can  still  see  the  group  as  we  sat  there,  haloed  by 
a  hazy  cloud  of  tear-mist.  The  figures  rise  before 
my  eyes,  so  young  and  fair  and  rich  in  life  and  yet 
so  pathetic  in  their  troubled  earnestness  that  a  great 
flood  of  pity  wells  up  in  my  heart  for  the  poor  young 
souls,  so  danger-bound  and  suffering,  and  withal  so 
daring  and  so  recklessly  confident  in  the  might  and 
right  of  love,  and  the  omnipotence  of  youth.    Ah  I 


2^2   XOhen  K.nighthofid  Wa^  in  Flower 

If  God  had  seen  fit  in  his  infinite  wisdom  to  save 
just  one  treasure  from  the  wreck  of  Eden,  what  a 
race  of  thankful  hearts  this  earth  would  bear,  had 
he  saved  us  youth  alone  therewith  to  compensate  us 
for  every  other  ill. 

As  to  the  elopement,  it  was  determined  that  Bran- 
don should  leave  London  the  following  day  for 
Bristol,  and  make  all  arrangements  along  the  line. 
He  would  carry  with  him  two  bundles,  his  own  and 
Mary's  clothing,  and  leave  them  to  be  taken  up 
when  they  should  go  a-shipboard.  Eight  horses 
would  be  procured ;  four  to  be  left  as  a  relay  at  an 
inn  between  Berkeley  Castle  and  Bristol,  and  four 
to  be  kept  at  the  rendezvous  some  two  leagues  the 
other  side  of  Berkeley  for  the  use  of  Brandon,  Mary 
and  the  two  men  from  Bristol  who  were  to  act  as 
an  escort  on  the  eventful  night.  There  was  one 
disagreeable  little  feature  that  we  could  not  provide 
against  nor  entirely  eliminate.  It  was  the  fact  that 
Jane  and  I  should  be  suspected  as  accomplices  before 
the  fact  of  Mary's  elopement ;  and,  as  you  know, 
to  assist  in  the  abduction  of  a  princess  is  treason 
— for  which  there  is  but  one  remedy.  I  thought  I 
had  a  plan  to  keep  ourselves  safe  if  I  could  only 
stifle  for  the  once  Jane's  troublesome  and  vigorous 
tendency  to  preach  the  truth  to  all  people,  upon  all 
subjects  and  at  all  times  and  places.  She  promised 
to  tell  the  story  I  would  drill  into  her,  but  I  knew 
the  truth  would  seep  out  in  a  thousand  ways.  She 
could  no  more  hold  it  than  a  sieve  can  hold  water. 


€5o  MaKe  a  Man  of  Her  253 

We  were  playing  for  great  stakes,  which,  if  I  do 
say  it,  none  but  the  bravest  hearts,  bold  and  daring 
as  the  truest  knights  of  chivalry,  would  think  of 
''  trying  for.  Nothing  less  than  the  running  away 
with  the  first  princess  of  the  first  blood  royal  of 
the  world.  Think  of  it !  It  appalls  me  even  now. 
Discover}'  meant  death  to  one  of  us  surely — Bran- 
don ;  possibly  to  two  others — Jane  and  me ;  cer- 
tainly, if  Jane's  truthfulness  should  become  unman- 
ageable, as  it  was  so  apt  to  do. 

After  we  had  settled  everything  we  could  think 
cf,  the  girls  took  their  leave;  Mary  slyly  kissing 
Brandon  at  the  door.  I  tried  to  induce  Jane  to  fol- 
low her  lady's  example,  but  she  was  as  cool  and 
distant  as  the  new  moon. 

I  siw  Jane  again  that  night  and  told  her  in  plain 
terms  what  I  thought  of  her  treatment  of  me.  I 
told  her  it  was  selfish  and  unkind  to  take  advantage 
of  my  love  for  her  and  treat  me  so  cruelly.  I  told 
her  that  if  she  had  one  drop  of  generous  blood  she 
would  tell  me  of  her  love,  if  she  had  any,  or  let  me 
know  it  in  some  way ;  and  if  she  cared  nothing 
for  me  she  was  equally  bound  to  be  honest  and  tell 
me  plainly,  so  that  I  should  not  waste  my  time  and 
encrg>'  in  a  hopeless  cause.  I  thought  it  rather 
clever  in  me  to  force  her  into  a  position  where  her 
refusal  to  tell  me  that  she  did  not  care  for  me  would 
drive  her  to  a  half  avowal.  Of  course,  I  had  little 
fear  of  the  former,  or  perhaps  I  should  not  have 
been  so  anxious  to  precipitate  the  issue. 


254    XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  'tn  Flotver 

She  did  not  answer  me  directly,  but  said :    "From 

the  way  you  looked  at  Mary  to-day,  I  was  led  to 

,  think  you  cared  little  for  any  other  girl's  opinion.'* 

"Ah!  Mistress  Jane!"  cried  I  joyfully;  "I  have 
you  at  last;  you  are  jealous." 

"I  give  you  to  understand,  sir,  that  your  vanity 
has  led  you  into  a  great  mistake." 

"As  to  your  caring  for  me,  or  your  jealousy? 
Which?"  I  asked  seriously.    Adroit,  wasn't  that? 

"As  to  the  jealousy,  Edwin.  There,  now ;  I  think 
that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  Too  much,"  she  said 
pleadingly ;  but  I  got  something  more  before  she 
left,  even  if  it  was  against  her  will ;  something  that 
made  it  almost  impossible  for  me  to  hold  my  feet 
to  the  ground. 

Jane  pouted,  gave  me  a  sharp  little  slap  and  then 
ran  away,  but  at  the  door  she  turned  and  threw 
back  a  rare  smile  that  was  priceless  to  me ;  for  it 
told  m.e  she  was  not  angry;  and  furthermore  shed 
an  illuminating  ray  upon  a  fact  which  I  was  blind 
not  to  have  seen  long  before ;  that  is,  that  Jane  was 
one  of  those  girls  who  must  be  captured  vi  et  armis. 

Some  women  cannot  be  captured  at  all ;  they  must 
give  themselves ;  of  this  class  pre-eminently  was 
Mary.  Others  again  will  meet  you  half  way  and 
kindly  lend  a  helping  hand ;  while  some,  like  Jane, 
are  always  on  the  run,  and  are  captured  only  by 
pursuit.  They  are  usually  well  worth  the  trouble 
though,  and  make  docile  captives.  After  that  smile 
from  the  doci  I  felt  that  Jane  was  mine ;  all  I  had 


Uo  MaKe  a  Man  of  Her  255 

to  do  was  to  keep  off  outside  enemies,  charge  upon 
her  defenses  when  the  times  were  ripe  and  accept 
nothing  short  of  her  own  sweet  self  as  ransom. 

The  next  day  Brandon  paid  his  respects  to  the 
king  and  queen,  made  his  adieus  to  his  friends  and 
rode  off  alone  to  Bristol.  You  may  be  sure  the 
king  showed  no  signs  of  undue  grief  at  his  de- 
parture. 


L 


CHATTE'R  XVI 

A  HatefKing  Tarty 

A  FEW  days  after  Brandon's  departure,  Mary, 
with  the  king's  consent,  organized  a  small 
party  to  go  over  to  Windsor  for  a  few  weeks 
during  the  warm  weather. 

There  were  ten  or  twelve  of  us,  including  two 
chaperons,  the  old  Earl  of  Hertford  and  the  dow- 
ager Duchess  of  Kent,  Henry  might  as  well  have 
sent  along  a  pair  of  spaniels  to  act  as  chaperons^ 
it  would  have  taken  an  army  to  guard  Mary  alone — 
and  to  tell  you  the  truth  our  old  chaperons  needed 
watching  more  than  any  of  us.  It  was  scandalous. 
Each  of  them  had  a  touch  of  gout,  and  when  they, 
made  wry  faces  it  was  a  standing  inquiry  among  us 
whether  they  were  leering  at  each  other  or  felt  a 
twinge — whether  it  was  their  feet  or  their  hearts, 
that  troubled  them. 

Mary  led  them  a  pretty  life  at  all  times,  even  at 
home  in  the  palace,  and  I  know  they  would  rather 
have  gone  off  with  a  pack  of  imps  than  with  us. 
The  inducement  was  that  it  gave  them  better  oppor- 
tunities to  be  together — an  arrangement  connived  at 
by  the  queen,  I  think — and  they  were  satisfied.  The 
earl  had  a  wife,  but  he  fancied  the  old  dowager 
and  she  fancied  him,  and  probably  the  wife  fancied 
somebody  else,  so  they  were  all  happy.    It  greatly 

(256) 


A  HatvKjn^  Tarty  23'/, 

amused  the  young  people,  you  may  be  sure,  and 
Mary  said,  probably  without  telling  the  'exact  truth, 
that  every  night  she  prayed  God  to  pity  and  forgive 
their  ugliness.  One  day  the  princess  said  she  was 
becoming  alarmed ;  their  ugliness  was  so  intense 
she  feared  it  might  be  contagious  and  spread.  Then, 
with  a  most  comical  seriousness,  she  added : 

"Mon  Dieu!  Sir  Edwin,  what  if  I  should  catch 
it?    Master  Charles  would  not  take  me." 

"No  danger  of  that,  my  lady;  he  is  too  devoted 
to  see  anything  but  beauty  in  you,  no  matter  how 
much  you  might  change." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?  He  says  so  little  about 
it  that  sometimes  I  almost  doubt." 

Therein  she  spoke  the  secret  of  Brandon's  suc- 
cess with  her,  at  least  in  the  beginning;  for  there 
is  wonderful  potency  in  the  stimulus  of  a  healthy 
little  doubt. 

We  had  a  delightful  canter  over  to  Windsor,  I 
riding  with  Mary  most  of  the  way.  I  was  not  averse 
to  this  arrangement,  as  I  not  only  relished  Mary's 
mirth  and  joyousness,  which  was  at  its  height,  but 
hoped  I  might  give  my  little  Lady  Jane  a  twinge  or 
two  of  jealousy  perchance  to  fertilize  her  sentiments 
toward  me, 

Mary  talked,  and  laughed,  and  sang,  for  her  soul 

was  a  fountain   of  gladness  that  bubbled  up  the 

instant  pressure  was  removed.     She  spoke  of  little 

but  our  last  trip  over  this  same  road,  and,  as  we 

passed  objects  on  the  way,  told  me  of  what  Bran- 
13 


258   tOhen  Knighthood  Wa>£  in  Flokoer 

don  had  said  at  this  place  and  that.  She  laughed 
and  dimpled  exquisitely  in  relating  how  she  had 
deliberately  made  opportunities  for  him  to  flatter 
her,  until,  at  last,  he  smiled  in  her  face  and  told  her 
she  was  the  most  beautiful  creature  living,  but  that 
"after  all,  'beauty  was  as  beauty  did !'  " 

"That  made  me  angry,"  said  she.  "I  pouted  for  a 
while,  and,  two  or  three  times,  was  on  the  point  of 
dismissing  him,  but  thought  better  of  it  and  asked 
him  plainly  wherein  I  did  so  much  amiss.  Then 
what  do  you  think  the  impudent  fellow  said  ?" 

"I  cannot  guess." 

"He  said :  'Oh,  there  is  so  much  it  would  take  a 
lifetime  to  tell  it' 

"This  made  me  furious,  but  I  could  not  answer, 
and  a  moment  later  he  said :  'Nevertheless  I  should 
be  only  too  glad  to  undertake  the  task.' 

"The  thought  never  occurred  to  either  of  us  then 
that  he  would  be  taken  at  his  word.  Bold?  I 
should  think  he  was ;  I  never  saw  anything  like  it ! 
I  have  not  told  you  a  tenth  part  of  what  he  said  to 
me  that  day;  he  said  anything  he  wished,  and  it 
seemed  that  I  could  neither  stop  him  nor  retaliate. 
Half  the  time  I  was  angry  and  half  the  time  amused, 
but  by  the  time  we  reached  Windsor  there  never 
was  a  girl  more  hopelessly  and  desperately  In  love 
than  Mary  Tudor."  And  she  laughed  as  if  it  were 
a  huge  joke  on  Mary. 

She  continued:  "That  day  settled  matters  with 
me  for  all  time.    I  don't  know  how  he  did  it.    Yes  I 


A  HaboKjn^  Tarty  259 

do  . . . . "  and  she  launched  forth  into  an  account  of 
Brandon's  perfections,  which  I  found  somewhat 
dull,  and  so  would  you. 

We  remained  a  day  or  two  at  Windsor,  and  then, 
over  the  objections  of  our  chaperons,  moved  on  to 
Berkeley  Castle,  where  Margaret  of  Scotland  was 
spending  the  summer. 

We  had  another  beautiful  ride  up  the  dear  old 
Thames  to  Berkeley,  but  Mary  had  grown  serious 
and  saw  none  of  it. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  appointed  day,  the  prin- 
cess suggested  a  hawking  party,  and  we  set  out  in 
the  direction  of  the  rendezvous.  Our  party  con- 
sisted of  myself,  three  other  gentlemen  and  three 
ladies  besides  Mary.  Jane  did  not  go;  I  was  afraid 
to  trust  her.  She  wept,  and,  with  difficulty,  forced 
herself  to  say  something  about  a  headache,  but  the 
rest  of  the  inmates  of  the  castle  of  course  had  no 
thought  that  possibly  they  were  taking  their  last 
look  upon  Mary  Tudor. 

Think  who  this  girl  was  we  were  running  away 
with !  What  reckless  fools  we  were  not  to  have 
seen  the  utter  hopelessness,  certain  failure,  and 
deadly  peril  of  our  act ;  treason  black  as  Plutonian 
midnight.  But  Providence  seems  to  have  an  espe- 
cial care  for  fools,  while  wise  men  are  left  to  care 
for  themselves,  and  it  does  look  as  if  safety  lies  in 
folly. 

We  rode  on  and  on,  and  although  I  took  two  occa- 
sions, in  the  presence  of  others,  to  urge  Mary  to 


26o  to  hen  Knighthood  Was  in  Ftotauer 

return,  owing  to  the  approach  of  night  and  threat- 
ened rain,  she  took  her  own  head,  as  everybody 
knew  she  always  would,  and  continued  the  hunt. 

Just  before  dark,  as  we  neared  the  rendezvous, 
Mary  and  I  managed  to  ride  ahead  of  the  party 
quite  a  distance.  At  last  we  saw  a  heron  rise,  and 
the  princess  uncapped  her  hawk. 

"This  is  my  chance,"  she  said ;  "I  will  run  away 
from  you  now  and  lose  myself;  keep  them  off  my 
track  for  five  minutes  and  I  shall  be  safe.  Good- 
bye, Edwin;  you  and  Jane  are  the  only  persons  I 
regret  to  leave.  I  love  you  as  my  brother  and  sis- 
ter. When  we  are  settled  in  New  Spain  we  will 
have  you  both  come  to  us.  Now,  Edwin,  I  shall 
tell  you  something:  don't  let  Jane  put  you  off  any 
longer.  She  loves  you;  she  told  me  so.  There  I 
Good-bye,  my  friend ;  kiss  her  a  thousand  times  for 
me."  And  she  flew  her  bird  and  galloped  after  it 
at  headlong  speed. 

As  I  saw  the  beautiful  young  form  receding  from 
me,  perhaps  forever,  the  tears  stood  in  my  eyes, 
while  I  thought  of  the  strong  heart  that  so  unfalter- 
ingly braved  such  dangers  and  was  so  loyal  to  itself 
and  daring  for  its  love.  She  had  shown  a  little 
feverish  excitement  for  a  day  or  two,  but  it  was  the 
fever  of  anticipation,  not  of  fear  or  hesitancy. 

Soon  the  princess  was  out  of  sight,  and  I  waited 
for  the  others  to  overtake  me.  When  they  came  up 
I  was  greeted  in  chorus:  "Where  is  the  princess?" 
I  said  she  had  gone  off  with  her  hawk,  and  had  left 


A  HatifKi^s  'Party  261 

me  to  bring  them  after  her.  I  held  them  talking 
while  I  could,  and  when  we  started  to  follow  took 
up  the  wrong  scent.  A  short  ride  made  this  appar- 
ent, when  I  came  in  for  my  full  share  of  abuse  and 
ridicule,  for  I  had  led  them  against  their  judgment. 
I  was  credited  with  being  a  blockhead,  when  m  fact 
they  were  the  dupes. 

We  rode  hurriedly  back  to  the  point  of  Mary's 
departure  and  wound  our  horns  lustily,  but  my 
object  had  been  accomplished,  and  I  knew  that 
within  twenty  minutes  from  the  time  I  last  saw  her, 
she  would  be  with  Brandon,  on  the  road  to  Bristol, 
gaining  on  any  pursuit  we  could  make  at  the  rate 
of  three  miles  for  two.  We  scoured  the  forest  far 
and  near,  but  of  course  found  no  trace.  After  a 
time  rain  set  in  and  one  of  the  gentlemen  escorted 
the  ladies  home,  while  three  of  us  remained  to  prowl 
about  the  woods  and  roads  all  night  in  a  soaking 
drizzle.  The  task  was  tiresome  enough  for  me,  as 
it  lacked  motive ;  and  when  we  rode  into  Berkeley 
Castle  next  day,  a  sorrier  set  of  bedraggled,  rain- 
stained,  mud-covered  knights  you  never  saw. 
You  mav  know  the  castle  was  wild  with  excite- 
ment.  There  were  all  sorts  of  conjectures,  but 
soon  we  unanimously  concluded  it  had  been  the 
work  of  highwaymen,  of  whom  the  country  was 
full,  and  by  whom  the  princess  had  certainly  been 
abducted. 

The  chaperons  forgot  their  gout  and  each  other, 
and  Jane,  who  was  the  most  affected  of  all,  had  a 


262   tUfhen  Kjnighthood  Wa-t  in  Flotuer 

genuine  excuse  for  giving  vent  to  her  grief  and 
went  to  bed — by  far  the  safest  place  for  her. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  First  we  sent  a  message  to 
the  king,  who  would  probably  have  us  all  flayed 
alive — a  fear  which  the  chaperons  shared  to  the 
fullest  extent.  Next,  an  armed  party  rode  back  to 
look  again  for  Mary,  and,  if  possible,  rescue  her. 

The  fact  that  I  had  been  out  the  entire  night  be- 
lore,  together  with  the  small  repute  in  which  I  was 
held  for  deeds  of  arms,  excused  me  from  taking 
part  in  this  bootless  errand,  so  again  I  profited  by 
the  small  esteem  in  which  I  was  held.  I  say  I 
profited,  for  I  stayed  at  the  castle  with  Jane,  hoping 
to  find  my  opportunity  in  the  absence  of  everybody 
else.  All  the  ladies  but  Jane  had  ridden  out,  and 
the  knights  who  had  been  with  me  scouring  the 
forest  were  sleeping,  since  they  had  not  my  in- 
centive to  remain  awake.  They  had  no  message  to 
deliver;  no  duty  to  perform  for  an  absent  friend. 
A  thousand !  Only  think  of  it !  I  wished  it  had  been 
a  million,  and  so  faithful  was  I  to  my  trust  that  I 
swore  in  my  soul  I  would  deliver  them,  every  one. 

And  Jane  loved  me!  No  more  walking  on  the 
<Hard,  prosaic  earth  now;  from  this  time  forth  I 
would  fly;  that  was  the  only  sensible  method  of 
locomotion.  Mary  had  said:  "She  told  me  so." 
Could  it  really  be  true?  You  will  at  once  see  what 
an  advantage  this  bit  of  information  was  to  me. 

I  hoped  that  Jane  would  wish  to  see  me  to  talk 
Over  Mary's  escape — so  I  sent  word  to  her  that  I 


A  HatifK.ms  'Party  263 

was  waiting,  and  she  quickly  enough  recovered  her 
health  and  came  down.  I  suggested  that  we  walk 
out  to  a  secluded  little  summer-house  by  the  river, 
and  Jane  was  willing.  Ah!  my  opportunity  was 
here  at  last. 

She  found  her  bonnet,  and  out  we  went.  What 
an  enchanting  walk  was  that,  and  how  rich  is  a  man 
who  has  laid  up  such  treasures  of  memory  to  grow 
the  sweeter  as  he  feeds  upon  them.  A  rich  memory 
is  better  than  hope,  for  it  lasts  after  fruition,  and 
serves  us  at  a  time  when  hope  has  failed  and  fruition 
is  but — a  memory.  Ah !  how  we  cherish  it  in  our 
hearts,  and  how  it  comes  at  our  beck  and  call  to 
thrill  us  through  and  through  and  make  us  thank 
God  that  we  have  lived,  and  wonder  in  our  hearts 
why  he  has  given  poor  undeserving  us  so  much. 

^iter  we  arrived  at  the  summer-house,  Jane 
listened,  half  the  time  in  tears,  while  I  told  her  all 
about  iMary's  flight. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  that  summer  day?  A  sweet 
briar  entwined  our  enchanted  bower,  and,  when  I 
catch  its  scent  even  now,  time-vaulting  memory 
carries  me  back,  making  years  seem  as  days,  and  I 
see  it  all  as  I  saw  the  light  of  noon  that  moment — 
and  all  was  Jane.  The  softly  lapping  river,  as  it 
gently  sought  the  sea,  sang  in  soothing  cadence  of 
naught  but  Jane ;  the  south  wind  from  his  flowery 
home  breathed  zephyr-voiced  her  name  again,  and, 
as  it  stirred  the  rustling  leaves  on  bush  and  tree, 
they  whispered  back  the  same  sweet  strain ;    and 


264   XOhen  Kjnighthood  Was  in  Floteter 

every  fairy  voice  found  its  echo  in  my  soul ;  for 
there  it  was  as  'twas  with  me,  "J^"^  •  J^^ie !  Jane !" 
I  have  heard  men  say  they  would  not  live  their  lives 
over  and  take  its  meager  grains  of  happiness,  in 
such  infinite  disproportion  to  its  grief  and  pain,  but, 
as  for  me,  thanks  to  one  woman,  I  almost  have  the 
minutes  numbered  all  along  the  way,  and  know 
them  one  from  the  other;  and  when  I  sit  alone  to 
dream,  and  live  again  some  portion  of  the  happy 
past,  I  hardly  know  what  time  to  choose  or  incident 
to  dwell  upon,  my  life  is  so  much  crowded  with  them 
all.  Would  I  live  again  my  life?  Aye,  every  mo- 
ment except  perhaps  when  Jane  was  ill — and  therein 
even  was  happiness,  for  what  a  joy  there  was  at  her 
recovery.  I  do  not  even  regret  that  it  is  closing; 
it  would  be  ungrateful ;  I  have  had  so  much  more 
than  my  share  that  I  simply  fall  upon  my  knees  and 
thank  God  for  what  He  has  given. 

Jane's  whole  attitude  toward  me  was  changed, 
and  she  seemed  to  cling  to  me  in  a  shy,  unconscious 
manner,  that  was  sweet  beyond  the  naming,  as  the 
one  solace  for  all  her  grief. 

After  I  had  answered  all  her  questions,  and  had 
told  her  over  and  over  again  every  detail  of  Mary's 
flight,  and  had  assured  her  that  the  princess  was, 
at  that  hour,  breasting  the  waves  with  Brandon,  on 
their  high  road  to  paradise,  I  thought  it  time  to 
start  myself  in  the  same  direction  and  to  say  a  word 
in  my  own  behalf.  So  I  spoke  very  freely  and  told 
Jane  what  I  felt  and  what  I  wanted. 


A  HatvK/r^s'  Tarty  26$ 

"Oh !  Sir  Edwin,"  she  responded,  ''let  us  not 
think  of  anything  but  my  mistress.  Think  of  the 
trouble  she  is  in." 

"No  1  no !  Jane  ;  Lady  Mary  is  out  of  her  trouble 
by  now,  and  is  as  happy  as  a  lark,  you  may  be  sure. 
Has  she  not  won  everything  her  heart  longed  for? 
Then  let  us  make  our  own  paradise,  since  we  have 
helped  them  make  theirs.  You  have  it,  Jane,  just 
within  your  lips ;  speak  the  word  and  it  will  change 
everything — if  you  love  me,  and  I  know  you  do." 

Jane's  head  was  bowed  and  she  remained  silent. 

Then  I  told  her  of  Lady  Mary's  message,  and 
begged,  if  she  would  not  speak  in  words  what  I  so 
longed  to  hear,  she  would  at  least  tell  it  by  allowing 
me  to  deliver  only  one  little  thousandth  part  of  the 
message  Mary  had  sent ;  but  she  drew  away  and 
said  she  would  return  to  the  castle  if  I  continued 
to  behave  in  that  manner.  I  begged  hard,  and  tried 
to  argue  the  point,  but  logic  seems  to  lose  its  force 
in  such  a  situation,  and  all  I  said  availed  nothing. 
Jane  was  obdurate,  and  was  for  going  back  at  once. 
Her  persistence  was  beginning  to  look  like  obst'n- 
acy,  and  I  soon  grew  sc  angry  that  I  asked  no  per- 
mission, but  delivered  Mary's  message,  or  a  good 
part  of  it,  at  least,  whether  she  would  or  no,  and 
then  sat  back  and  asked  her  what  she  was  going  to 
do  about  it. 

Poor  little  Jane  thought  she  was  undone  for  life. 
She  sat  there  half  pouting,  half  weeping,  and  said 
she  could  do  nothing  about  it ;   that  she  was  alone 


266   tOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flotoer 

now,  and  if  I,  her  only  friend,  would  treat  her  that 
way,  she  did  not  know  where  to  look. 

"Where  to  look?"  I  demanded.  "Look  here, 
Jane,  here;  you  might  as  well  understand,  first  as 
last,  that  I  will  not  be  trifled  with  longer,  and  that 
I  intend  to  continue  treating  you  that  way  as  long  | 

as  we  both  live.  I  have  determined  not  to  permit 
you  to  behave  as  you  have  for  so  long ;  for  I  know 
you  love  me.  You  have  half  told  me  so  a  dozen 
times,  and  even  your  half  words  are  whole  truths ; 
there  is  not  a  fraction  of  a  lie  in  you.  Besides,  Mary 
told  me  that  you  told  her  so." 

"She  did  not  tell  you  that?" 

"Yes ;  upon  my  knightly  honor."  Of  course  there 
was  but  one  answer  to  this — tears.  I  then  brought 
the  battle  to  close  quarters  at  once,  and,  with  my 
arm  uninterrupted  at  my  lady's  waist,  asked : 

"Did  you  not  tell  her  so  ?  I  know  you  will  speak 
nothing  but  the  truth.  Did  you  not  tell  her? 
Answer  me,  Jane."  The  fair  head  nodded  as  she 
whispered  between  the  hands  that  covered  her  face : 

"Yes ;  I— I — d-did ;"  and  I— well,  I  delivered  the 
rest  of  Mary's  message,  and  that,  too,  without  a 
protest  from  Jane. 

Truthfulness  is  a  pretty  good  thing  after  all. 

So  Jane  was  conquered  at  last,  and  I  heaved  a 
eigh  as  the  battle  ended,  for  it  had  been  a  long,  hard 
struggle. 

I  asked  Jane  when  we  should  be  married,  but  she 
said  she  could  not  think  of  that  now — not  until  she 


A  HabgjKjn^  Tarty  267 

knew  that  ^lary  was  safe;  but  she  would  promise 
to  be  my  wife  sometime.  I  told  her  that  her  word 
was  as  good  as  gold  to  me ;  and  so  it  was  and  al- 
ways has  been ;  as  good  as  fine  gold  thrice  refined. 
I  then  told  her  I  would  bother  her  no  more  about  it, 
now  that  I  was  sure  of  her,  but  when  she  was  ready 
she  should  tell  me  of  her  own  accord  and  make  my 
happiness  complete.  She  said  she  would,  and  I 
told  her  I  believed  her  and  was  satisfied.  I  did, 
however,  suggest  that  the  intervening  time  would 
be  worse  than  wasted — happiness  thrown  right  in 
the  face  of  Providence,  as  it  were — and  begged  her 
not  to  waste  any  more  than  necessary ;  to  which 
she  seriously  and  honestly  answered  that  she  would 
not. 

We  went  back  to  the  castle,  and  as  we  parted  Jane 
said  timidly:  "I  am  glad  I  told  you,  Edwin;  glad 
it  is  over." 

She  had  evidently  dreaded  it ;  but — I  was  glad, 
too ;  v«ry  glad.    Then  I  went  to  bed. 


w 


CHATTEL  XVII 

Uhe  Elopement 

'HATEVER  the  king  might  think,  I  knew 
Lord  Wolsey  would  quickly  enough  guess 
the  truth  when  he  heard  that  the  princess 
was  missing,  and  would  have  a  party  in  pursuit. 
The  runaways,  however,  would  have  at  least  twenty- 
four  hours  the  start,  and  a  ship  leaves  no  tracks. 
When  Mary  left  me  she  was  perhaps  two-thirds 
of  a  league  from  the  rendezvous,  and  night  was 
rapidly  falling.  As  her  road  lay  through  a  dense 
forest  all  the  way,  she  would  have  a  dark,  lonely 
ride  of  a  few  minutes,  and  I  was  somewhat  un- 
easy for  that  part  of  the  journey.  It  had  been 
agreed  that  if  everything  was  all  right  at  the 
rendezvous,  Tvlary  should  turn  loose  her  horse, 
which  had  always  been  stabled  at  Berkeley  Castle 
and  would  quickly  trot  home.  To  further  empha- 
size her  safety  a  thread  would  be  tied  in  his  fore- 
lock. The  horse  took  his  time  in  returning,  and 
did  not  arrive  until  the  second  morning  after  the 
flight,  but  when  he  came  I  found  the  thread,  and, 
unobserved,  removed  it.  I  quickly  took  it  to  Jane, 
who  has  it  yet,  and  cherishes  it  for  the  mute  mes- 
sage of  comfort  it  brought  her.  In  case  the  horse 
should  not  return,  I  was  to  find  a  token  in  a  hol- 
low tree  near  the  place  of  meeting;  but  the  thread 

(268) 


IShe  Elopement  269 

in  the  forelock  told  us  our  friends  had  found  each 
other. 

When  we  left  the  castle,  Mary  wore  under  her 
riding  habit  a  suit  of  man's  attire,  and,  as  we  rode 
along,  she  would  shrug  her  shoulders  and  laugh  as 
if  it  were  a  huge  joke;  and  by  the  most  comical 
little  pantomime,  call  my  attention  to  her  unusual 
bulk.  So  when  she  found  Brandon,  the  only  change 
necessary  to  make  a  man  of  her  was  to  throw  off  the 
riding  habit  and  pull  on  the  jack-boots  and  slouch 
hat,  both  of  which  Brandon  had  with  him. 

They  wasted  no  time  you  may  be  sure,  and  were 
soon  under  way.  In  a  few  minutes  they  picked  up 
the  two  Bristol  men  who  were  to  accompany  them, 
and,  when  night  had  fairly  fallen,  left  the  by-paths 
and  took  to  the  main  road  leading  from  London  to 
Bath  and  Bristol.  The  road  was  a  fair  one  ;  that  is, 
it  was  well  defined  and  there  was  no  danger  of  losing 
it ;  in  fact,  there  was  more  danger  of  losing  one's 
self  in  its  fathomless  mud-holes  and  quagmires. 
Brandon  had  recently  passed  over  it  twice,  and  had 
made  mental  note  of  the  worst  places,  so  he  hoped 
to  avoid  them. 

Soon  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  a  soaking  drizzle ; 
then  the  lamps  of  twilight  went  out,  and  even  the 
shadows  of  the  night  were  lost  among  themselves 
in  blinding  darkness.  It  was  one  of  those  black 
nights  fit  for  witch  traveling;  and,  no  doubt,  every 
witch  in  England  was  out  brewing  mischief.  The 
horses'  hoofs  sucked  and  splashed  in  the  mud  with  a 


270   XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  Flo^cver 

sound  that  Mary  thought  might  be  heard  at  Land's 
End;  and  the  hoot  of  an  owl,  now  and  then  dis- 
turbed by  a  witch,  would  strike  upon  her  ear  with  a 
volume  of  sound  infinitely  disproportionate  to  the 
size  of  any  owl  she  had  ever  seen  or  dreamed  of 
before. 

Brandon  wore  our  cushion,  the  great  cloak,  and 
had  provided  a  like  one  of  suitable  proportions  for 
the  princess.  This  came  in  good  play,  as  her  fine 
gentleman's  attire  would  be  but  poor  stuff  to  turn 
the  water.  The  wind,  which  had  arisen  with  just 
enough  force  to  set  up  a  dismal  wail,  gave  the  rain 
a  horizontal  slant  and  drove  it  in  at  every  opening. 
The  flaps  of  the  comfortable  great  cloak  blew  back 
from  Mary's  knees,  and  she  felt  many  a  chilling 
drop  through  her  fine  new  silk  trunks  that  made 
her  wish  for  buckram  in  their  place.  Soon  the  water 
began  to  trickle  down  her  legs  and  find  lodgment 
in  the  jack-boots,  and  as  the  rain  and  wind  came  in 
tremulous  little  whirs,  she  felt  wretched  enough — 
she  who  had  always  been  so  well  sheltered  from 
every  blast.  Now  and  then  mud  and  water  would 
fly  up  into  her  face — striking  usually  in  the  eyes  or 
mouth — and  then  again  her  horse  would  stumble 
and  almost  throw  her  over  his  head,  as  he  sank, 
knee  deep,  into  some  unexpected  hole.  All  of  this, 
with  the  thousand  and  one  noises  that  broke  the  still 
.worse  silence  of  the  inky  night  soon  began  to  work 
upon  her  nerves  and  make  her  fearful.  The  road 
5vas  full  of  dangers  aside  from  stumbling  horses 


IShe  Elopement  271 

and  broken  necks,  for  many  were  the  stories  of  mur- 
der and  robbery  committed  along  the  route  they 
were  traveling.  It  is  true  they  had  two  stout  men, 
and  all  were  armed,  yet  they  might  easily  come  upon 
a  party  too  strong  for  them ;  and  no  one  could  tell 
what  might  happen,  thought  the  princess.  There 
was  that  pitchy  darkness  through  which  she  could 
hardly  see  her  horse's  head — a  thing  of  itself  that 
seemed  to  have  infinite  powers  for  mischief,  and 
which  no  amount  of  argument  ever  induced  any 
normally  constituted  woman  to  believe  was  the  mere 
negative  absence  of  light,  and  not  a  terrible  entity 
potent  for  all  sorts  of  mischief.  Then  that  wailing 
howl  that  rose  and  fell  betimes ;  no  wind  ever  made 
such  a  noise  she  felt  sure.  There  were  those  shining 
white  gleams  w'hich  came  from  the  little  pools  of 
water  on  the  road,  looking  like  dead  men's  faces 
upturned  and  pale ;  perhaps  they  were  water  and 
perhaps  they  were  not.  Mary  had  all  confidence  in 
Brandon,  but  that  very  fact  operated  against  her. 
Having  that  confidence  and  trust  in  him,  she  felt  no 
need  to  waste  her  own  energy  in  being  brave ;  so 
she  relaxed  completely,  and  had  the  feminine  satis- 
faction of  allowing  herself  to  be  thoroughly  fright- 
ened. 

Is  it  any  wonder  Mary's  gallant  but  womanly 
spirit  sank  low  in  the  face  of  all  those  terrors?  She 
held  out  bravely,  however,  and  an  occasional  clasp 
from  Brandon's  hand  under  cover  of  the  darkness 
comforted  her.     WTien  all  those  terrors  would  not 


2^2   XOhen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  Flotater 

suggest  even  a  thought  of  turning  back,  yotl  may 
judge  of  the  character  of  this  girl  and  her  motive. 

They  traveled  on,  galloping  when  they  could, 
trotting  when  they  could  not  gallop,  and  walking 
when  they  must. 

At  one  time  they  thought  they  heard  the  sound  of 
following  horses,  and  hastened  on  as  fast  as  they 
dared  go,  until,  stopping  to  listen  and  hearing  noth- 
ing, they  concluded  they  were  wrong.  About  eleven 
o'clock,  however,  right  out  of  the  black  bank  of 
night  in  front  of  them  they  heard,  in  earnest,  the 
sucking  splash  of  horses'  hoofs.  In  an  instant  the 
sound  ceased  and  the  silence  was  worse  than  the 
noise.  The  cry  "Hollo!"  brought  them  all  to  a 
stand,  and  Mary  thought  her  time  had  come. 

Both  sides  shouted,  "Who  comes  there?"  to 
which  there  was  a  simultaneous  and  eager  answer, 
"A  friend,"  and  each  party  passed  its  own  way,  only 
too  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  other.  Mary's  sigh  of  re- 
lief could  be  heard  above  even  the  wind  and  the 
owls,  and  her  heart  beat  as  if  it  had  a  task  to  finish 
within  a  certain  time. 

After  this  they  rode  on  as  rapidly  as  they  dared, 
and  about  midnight  arrived  at  the  inn  where  the 
relay  of  horses  was  awaiting  them. 

The  inn  was  a  rambling  old  thatched-roofed  struc- 
ture, half  mud,  half  wood,  and  all  filth.  There  are 
many  inns  in  England  that  are  tidy  enough,  but  this 
one  was  a  little  off  the  main  road — selected  for  that 
reason — and  the  uncleanness  was  not  the  least  o£ 


tShe  Etopement  273 

Marv's  trials  that  hard  niHit.  She  had  not  tasted 
food  since  noon,  and  felt  the  keen  hunger  natural 
to  youth  and  health  such  as  hers,  after  twelve  hours 
of  fasting  and  eight  hours  of  riding.  Her  appetite 
soon  overcame  her  repugnance,  and  she  ate,  with  a 
zest  that  was  new  to  her,  the  humblest  fare  that  had 
ever  passed  her  lips.  One  often  misses  the  zest  of 
life's  joys  by  having  too  much  of  them.  One  must 
want  a  thing  before  it  can  be  appreciated. 

A  hard  ride  of  five  hours  brought  our  travelers  to 
Bath,  which  place  they  rode  around  just  as  the  sun 
began  to  gild  the  tile  roofs  and  steeples,  and  an- 
other hour  brought  them  to  Bristol. 

The  ship  \vas  to  sail  at  sunrise,  but  as  the  wind 
had  died  out  w^ith  the  night,  there  was  no  danger  of 
its  sailing  without  them.  Soon  the  gates  opened, 
and  the  party  rode  to  the  Bow  and  String,  where 
Brandon  had  left  their  chests.  The  men  were  then 
paid  off ;  quick  sale  was  made  of  the  horses ;  break- 
fast was  served,  and  they  started  for  the  wharf, 
with  their  chests  following  in  the  hands  of  four 
porters. 

A  boat  soon  took  them  aboard  the  Royal  Hind, 
and  now  it  looked  as  if  their  daring  scheme,  so  full 
of  improbability  as  to  seem  impossible,  had  really 
come  to  a  successful  issue. 

From  the  beginning,  I  think,  it  had  never  oc- 
curred to  Mary  to  doubt  the  result.  There  had 
never  been  with  her  even  a  suggestion  of  possible 

failure,  unless  it  was  that  evening  in  our  room, 
u 


274   XOhen  Kjii^hthood  Wa.r  in  Flobuer 

when,  prompted  by  her  startled  modesty,  she  had 
said  she  could  not  bear  for  us  to  see  her  in  the  trunk 
hose.  Now  that  fruition  seemed  about  to  crown  her 
hopes  she  was  happy  to  her  heart's  core ;  and  when 
once  to  herself  wept  for  sheer  joy.  It  is  little  wonder 
she  was  happy.  She  was  leaving  behind  no  one 
whom  she  loved  excepting  Jane,  and  perhaps,  me. 
No  father  nor  mother;  only  a  sister  whom  she 
barely  knew,  and  a  brother  whose  treatment  of  her 
had  turned  her  heart  against  him.  She  was  also 
fleeing  with  the  one  man  in  all  the  world  for  her, 
and  from  a  marriage  that  was  literally  worse  than 
death. 

Brandon,  on  the  other  hand,  had  always  had  more 
desire  than  hope.  The  many  chances  against  suc- 
cess had  forced  upon  him  a  haunting  sense  of  certain 
failure,  which,  one  would  think,  should  have  left 
him  now.  It  did  not,  however,  and  even  when  on 
shipboard,  with  a  score  of  men  at  the  windlass  ready 
to  heave  anchor  at  the  first  breath  of  wind,  it  was 
as  strong  as  when  Mary  first  proposed  their  flight, 
sitting  in  the  window  on  his  great  cloak.  Such  were 
their  opposite  positions.  Both  were  without  doubt, 
but  with  this  difference;  Mary  had  never  doubted 
success ;  Brandon  never  doubted  failure.  He  had 
a  keen  analytical  faculty  that  gave  him  truthfully 
the  chances  for  and  against,  and,  in  this  case,  they 
were  overwhelmingly  unfavorable.  Such  hope  as 
he  had  been  able  to  distil  out  of  his  desire  was  sadly 
dampened  by  an  ever-present  premonition  of  failure. 


tShe  Eftopemenf  275 

which  he  could  not  entirely  throw  off.  Too  keen 
an  insight  for  the  truth  often  stands  in  a  man's  way, 
and  too  clear  a  view  of  an  overwhelming  obstacle  is 
apt  to  paralyze  effort.  Hope  must  always  be  behind 
a  hearty  endeavor. 

Our  travelers  were,  of  course,  greatly  in  need  of 
rest ;  so  Mary  went  to  her  room,  and  Brandon  took 
a  berth  in  the  cabin  set  apart  for  the  gentlemen. 

They  had  both  paid  for  their  passage,  although 
they  had  enlisted  and  were  part  of  the  ship's  com- 
pany. They  were  not  expected  to  do  sailor's  work, 
but  would  be  called  upon  in  case  of  fighting  to  do 
their  part  at  that.  Mary  was  probably  as  good  a 
fighter,  in  her  own  way,  as  one  could  find  in  a  long 
journey,  but  how  she  was  to  do  her  part  with  sword 
and  buckler  Brandon  did  not  know.  That,  how- 
ever, was  a  bridge  to  be  crossed  w^hen  they  should 
come  to  it. 

They  had  gone  aboard  about  seven  o'clock,  and 
Brandon  hoped  the  ship  would  be  well  down  Bristol 
channel  before  he  should  leave  his  berth.  But  the 
wind  that  had  filled  Mary's  jack-boots  with  rain 
and  had  howled  so  dismally  all  night  long  would 
not  stir,  now  that  it  was  wanted.  Noon  came,  yet 
no  wind,  and  the  sun  shone  as  placidly  as  if  Captain 
Charles  Brandon  were  not  fuming  with  impatience 
on  the  poop  of  the  Royal  Hind.  Three  o'clock  and 
no  wind.  The  captain  said  it  would  come  with 
night,  but  sundown  was  almost  at  hand  and  no  wind 
yet.     Brandon  knew  this  meant  failure  if  it  held  a 


z']^)  XOhen  Kjnighihood  Wa^  in  Flotoer 

little  longer,  for  he  was  certain  the  king,  with 
Wolsey's  help,  would  long  since  have  guessed  the 
truth. 

Brandon  had  not  seen  the  princess  since  morning, 
and  the  delicacy  he  felt  about  going  to  her  cabin 
made  the  situation  somewhat  difficult.  After  put- 
ting it  off  from  hour  to  hour  in  hope  that  she  would 
appear  of  her  own  accord,  he  at  last  knocked  at  her 
door,  and,  of  course,  found  the  lady  in  trouble. 

The  thought  of  the  princess  going  on  deck  caused 
a  sinking  at  his  heart  every  time  it  came,  as  he  felt 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  conceal  her  identity. 
He  had  not  seen  her  in  her  new  male  attire,  for 
when  she  threw  off  her  riding  habit  on  meeting  him 
the  night  before,  he  had  intentionally  busied  him- 
self about  the  horses,  and  saw  her  only  after  the 
great  cloak  covered  her  as  a  gown.  He  felt  that 
however  well  her  garments  might  conceal  her  form, 
no  man  on  earth  ever  had  such  beauty  in  his  face 
as  her  transcendent  eyes,  rose-tinted  cheeks,  and 
coral  lips,  with  their  cluster  of  dimples;  and  his 
heart  sank  at  the  prospect.  She  might  hold  out  for 
a  while  with  a  straight  face,  but  when  the  smiles 
should  come — it  were  just  as  well  to  hang  a  placard 
about  her  neck:  "This  is  a  woman."  The  tell-tale 
dimples  would  be  worse  than  Jane  for  outspoken, 
untimely  truthfulness  and  trouble-provoking  can- 
dor. 

Upon  entering,  Brandon  found  Mary  wrestling 
with  the  problem  of  her  complicated  male  attire; 


XShe  Elopement  277 

the  most  beautiful  picture  of  puzzled  distress  imag- 
inable. The  port  was  open  and  showed  her  rosy 
as  the  morn  when  she  looked  up  at  him.  The  jack- 
boots were  in  a  corner,  and  her  little  feet  seemed 
to  put  up  a  protest  all  their  own,  against  going  into 
them,  that  ought  to  have  softened  every  peg.  She 
looked  up  at  Brandon  A'ith  a  half-hearted  smile,  and 
then  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  sobbed  like 
the  child  that  she  was. 

"Do  you  regret  coming,  Lady  Alary?"  asked 
Brandon,  who,  now  that  she  was  alone  with  him, 
felt  that  he  must  take  no  advantage  of  the  fact  to 
be  familiar. 

"No !  no !  not  for  one  moment ;  I  am  glad— only 
too  glad.  But  why  do  you  call  me  *I-ady'?  You 
used  to  call  me  'Mary.* " 

"1  don't  know;  perhaps  because  you  are  alone.** 

"Ah !  that  is  good  of  you ;  but  you  need  not  be 
quite  so  respectful." 

The  matter  was  settled  by  mute  but  satisfactory 
arbitration,  and  Brandon  continued:  **You  must 
make  yourself  ready  to  go  on  deck.  It  will  be  hard, 
but  it  must  be  done." 

He  helped  her  with  the  heavy  Jack-boots  and 
handed  her  the  rain-stained  slouch  hat  which  she 
put  on,  and  stood  a  complete  man  ready  for  the 
deck — that  is,  as  complete  as  could  be  evolved  from 
her  utter  femininity. 

When  Brandon  looked  her  over,  all  hope  went  out 
of  him.    It  seemed  that  every  change  of  dress  only 


278  XOhen  Kj\ighihood  Was  in  Flotoer 

added  to  her  bewitching  beauty  by  showing  it  in  a 
new  phase. 

"It  will  never  do;  there  is  no  disguising  you. 
What  is  it  that  despite  everything  shows  so  unmis- 
takably feminine?  What  shall  we  do?  I  have  it; 
you  shall  remain  here  under  the  pretense  of  illness 
until  we  are  well  at  sea,  and  then  I  will  tell  the 
captain  all.  It  is  too  bad ;  and  yet  I  would  not  have 
you  one  whit  less  a  woman  for  all  the  world.  A  man 
loves  a  woman  who  is  so  thoroughly  womanly  that 
nothing  can  hide  it." 

Mary  was  pleased  at  his  flattery,  but  disap- 
pointed at  the  failure  in  herself.  She  had  thought 
that  surely  these  garments  would  make  a  man  of 
her  in  which  the  keenest  eye  could  not  detect  a 
flaw. 

They  were  discussing  the  matter  when  a  knock 
came  at  the  door  with  the  cry,  "All  hands  on  deck 
for  inspection."  Inspection!  Jesu!  Mary  would 
not  safely  endure  it  a  minute.  Brandon  left  her  at 
once  and  went  to  the  captain. 

"My  lord  is  ill,  and  begs  to  be  excused  from  deck 
inspection,"  he  said. 

Bradhurst,  a  surly  old  half  pirate  of  the  saltiest 
pattern,  answered:  "111?  Then  he  had  better  go 
ashore  as  soon  as  possible.  I  will  refund  his  money. 
We  cannot  make  a  hospital  out  of  the  ship.  If  his 
lordship  is  too  ill  to  stand  inspection,  see  that  he 
goes  ashore  at  once.'* 

This  last  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  ship's  ofil- 


^he  Ktopemenf  9^ 

cers,  who  answered  with  the  usual  "Aye,  aye,  sir," 
and  started  for  Mary's  cabin. 

That  was  worse  than  ever ;  and  Brandon  quickly 
said  he  would  have  his  lordship  up  at  once.  He 
then  returned  to  Mary,  and  after  buckling  on  her 
sword  and  belt  they  went  on  deck  and  climbed  up 
the  poop  ladder  to  take  their  places  with  tliose  en- 
titled to  stand  aft. 

Brandon  has  often  told  me  since  that  it  was  as 
much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  back  the  tears  when 
he  saw  Mary's  wonderful  effort  to  appear  manly. 
It  was  both  comical  and  pathetic.  She  was  a  prin- 
cess to  whom  all  the  world  bowed  down,  yet  that  did 
not  help  her  here.  After  all  she  was  only  a  girl, 
timid  and  fearful,  following  at  Brandon's  heels; 
frightened  lest  she  should  get  out  of  arm's  reach 
of  him  among  those  rough  men,  and  longing  with 
all  her  heart  to  take  his  hand  for  moral  as  well  as 
physical  support.  It  must  have  been  both  laughable 
and  pathetic  in  the  extreme.  That  miserable  sword 
persisted  in  tripping  her,  and  the  jack-boots,  so 
much  too  large,  evinced  an  alarming  tendency  to 
slip  off  with  every  step.  How  insane  we  all  were 
not  to  have  foreseen  this  from  the  very  beginning. 
It  must  have  been  a  unique  figure  she  presented 
climbing  up  the  steps  at  Brandon's  heels,  jack-boots 
and  all.  So  unique  was  it  that  the  sailors  working 
in  the  ship's  waist  stopped  their  tasks  to  stare  in 
wonderment,  and  the  gentlemen  on  the  poop  made 


28o  te^hen  Kjnighihood  Wa^  in  Flotoer 

no  effort  to  hide  their  amusement.  Old  Bradhurst 
stepped  up  to  her. 

"I  hope  your  lordship  is  feeling  better ;"  and  then, 
surveying  her  from  head  to  foot,  with  a  broad  grin 
on  his  features,  "I  declare,  you  look  the  picture  of 
health,  if  I  ever  saw  it.    How  old  are  you  ?" 

Mary  quickly  responded,  "Fourteen  years." 

"Fourteen,"  returned  Bradhurst:  "well,  I  don't 
think  you  will  shed  much  blood.  You  look  more 
like  a  deuced  handsome  girl  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw."  At  this  the  men  all  laughed,  and  were  very 
impertinent  in  the  free  and  easy  manner  of  such 
gentry,  most  of  whom  were  professional  adventur- 
ers, with  every  finer  sense  dulled  and  debased  by 
years  of  vice. 

These  fellows,  half  of  them  tipsy,  now  gathered 
about  Mary  to  inspect  her  personally,  each  on  his 
own  account.  Their  looks  and  conduct  were  very 
disconcerting,  but  they  did  nothing  insulting  until 
one  fellow  gave  her  a  slap  on  the  back,  accompany- 
ing it  by  an  indecent  remark.  Brandon  tried  to  pay 
no  attention  to  them,  but  this  was  too  much,  so  he 
lifted  his  arm  and  knocked  the  fellow  off  the  poop 
into  the  waist.  The  man  was  back  in  a  moment, 
and  swords  were  soon  drawn  and  clicking  away  at 
a  great  rate.  The  contest  was  brief,  however,  as 
the  fellow  was  no  sort  of  match  for  Brandon,  who, 
with  his  old  trick,  quickly  twisted  his  adversary's 
sword  out  of  his  grasp,  and  with  a  flash  of  his  own 
blade  flung  it  into  the  sea.     The  other  men  were 


^he  Elopement  281 

now  talking  together  at  a  little  distance  in  whispers, 
and  in  a  moment  one  drunken  brute  shouted :  "It  is 
no  man ;  it  is  a  woman ;  let  us  see  more  of  her." 

Before  Brandon  could  interfere,  the  fellow  had 
unbuckled  Mary's  doublet  at  the  throat,  and  with  a 
jerk,  had  torn  it  half  off,  carrying  away  the  sleeve 
and  exposing  Mary's  shoulder,  almost  throwing  her 
to  the  deck. 

He  waved  his  trophy  on  high,  but  his  triumph 
was  short-lived,  for  almost  instantly  it  fell  to  the 
deck,  and  with  it  the  offending  hand  severed  at  the 
wrist  by  Brandon's  sword.  Three  or  four  friends 
of  ihe  wounded  man  rushed  upon  Brandon ;  where- 
upon ]Mary  screamed  and  began  to  weep,  which  of 
course  told  the  whole  story. 

A  great  laugh  went  up,  and  instantly  a  general 
fight  began.  Several  of  the  gentlemen,  seeing  Bran- 
don attacked  by  such  odds,  took  up  his  defense,  and 
within  twenty  seconds  all  were  on  one  side  or  the 
other,  every  mother's  son  of  them  fighting  away 
like  mad. 

You  see  how  quickly  and  completely  one  woman 
without  the  slightest  act  on  her  part,  except  a  mod- 
est effort  to  be  let  alone,  had  set  the  whole  company 
by  the  ears,  cutting  and  slashing  away  at  each  other 
like  very  devils.  The  sex  must  generate  mischief 
in  some  unknown  manner,  and  throw  it  off,  as  the 
sun  throws  off  its  heat.  However,  Jane  is  an  excep- 
tion to  that  rule — if  it  is  a  rule. 

The  officers  soon  put  a  stop  to  this  lively  littJe 


282   tOhen  Knighthood  Wa>r  in  Flotg/er 

fight,  and  took  Brandon  and  Mary,  who  was  weep- 
ing as  any  right-minded  woman  would,  down  into 
the  cabin  for  consuhation. 

With  a  great  oath  Bradhurst  exclaimed:  "It  Is 
plain  enough  that  you  have  brought  a  girl  on  board 
under  false  colors,  and  you  may  as  well  make  ready 
to  put  her  ashore.  You  see  what  she  has  already 
done — a  hand  lost  to  one  man  and  wounds  for 
twenty  others — and  she  was  on  deck  less  than  five 
minutes.  Heart  of  God!  At  that  rate  she  would 
h'lve  the  ship  at  the  bottom  of  Davy  Jones's  locker 
before  we  could  sail  half  down  the  channel." 

"It  was  not  my  fault,"  sobbed  Mary,  her  eyes 
flashing  fire;  "I  did  nothing;  all  I  wanted  was  to 
be  left  alone;  but  those  brutes  of  men — ^you  shall 
pay  for  this ;  remember  what  I  say.  Did  you  expect 
Captain  Brandon  to  stand  back  and  not  defend  me, 
when  that  wretch  was  tearing  my  garments  off  ?" 

"Captain  Brandon,  did  you  say?"  asked  Brad- 
hurst, with  his  hat  off  instantly. 

"Yes,"  answered  that  individual.  **I  shipped 
under  an  assumed  name,  for  various  reasons,  and 
desire  not  to  be  known.  You  will  do  well  to  keep 
my  secret." 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  are  Master  Charles 
Brandon,  the  king's  friend?"  asked  Bradhurst. 

"I  am,"  was  the  answer. 

"Then,  sir,  I  must  ask  your  pardon  for  the  way 
you  have  been  treated.  We,  of  course,  could  not 
know  it,  but  a  man  must  expect  trouble  when  he 


t5he  Elopement  283 

attaches  himself  to  a  woman."  It  is  a  wonder  the 
flashes  fron^  Mary's  eyes  did  not  strike  the  old  sea- 
dog  dead.  He,  however,  did  not  see  them,  and 
went  on :  ''We  are  more  than  anxious  that  so  val- 
iant a  knight  as  Sir  Charles  Brandon  should  go  with 
us,  and  hope  your  reception  will  not  drive  you  back, 
but  as  to  the  lady — ^}'0u  see  already  the  result  of 
her  presence,  and  much  as  we  want  you,  we  cannot 
take  her.  Aside  from  the  general  trouble  whicli  a 
woman  takes  with  her  everywhere" — Mary  would 
not  even  look  at  the  creature — "on  shipboard  there 
is  another  and  greater  objection.  It  is  said,  you 
know,  among  sailors,  that  a  woman  on  board  draws 
bad  luck  to  certain  sorts  of  ships,  and  every  sailor 
would  desert,  before  we  could  weigh  anchor,  if  it 
were  known  this  lady  was  to  go  with  us.  Should 
they  find  it  out  in  mid-ocean,  a  mutiny  would  be  sure 
to  follow,  and  God  only  knows  what  would  happen. 
For  her  sake,  if  for  no  other  reason,  take  her  ashore 
at  once." 

Brandon  saw  only  too  plainly  the  truth  that  he 
had  really  seen  all  the  time,  but  to  which  he  Iiad 
shut  his  eyes,  and  throwing  Mary's  cloak  over  her 
shoulders,  prepared  to  go  ashore.  As  they  went 
over  the  side  and  pulled  oflF,  a  great  shout  went  up 
from  the  ship  far  more  derisive  than  cheering,  and 
the  men  at  the  oars  looked  at  each  other  askance  and 
smiled.  What  a  predicament  for  a  princess !  Bran- 
don cursed  himself  for  having  been  such  a  knave 
and  fool  as  to  allow  this  to  happen.    He  had  known 


284  tOhen  Kjiighihood  Was  in  Flotoer 

the  danger  all  the  time,  and  his  act  could  not  be 
chargeable  to  ignorance  or  a  failure  to  see  the  prob- 
able consequences.  Temptation,  and  selfish  desire, 
had  given  him  temerity  in  place  of  judgment.  He 
had  attempted  what  none  but  an  insane  man  would 
have  tried,  without  even  the  pitiable  excuse  of  in- 
sanity. He  had  seen  it  all  only  too  clearly  from  the 
very  beginning,  and  he  had  deliberately  and  with 
open  eyes  brought  disgrace,  ruin,  and  death — unless 
he  could  escape — upon  himself,  and  utter  humilia- 
tion to  her  whom  his  love  should  have  prompted 
him  to  save  at  all  cost.  If  Mary  could  only  have 
disguised  herself  to  look  like  a  man  they  might  have 
succeeded,  but  that  little  "if"  was  larger  than  Paul's 
church,  and  blocked  the  road  as  completely  as  if  it 
had  been  a  word  of  twenty  syllables. 

When  the  princess  stepped  ashore  it  seemed  to  her 
as  if  the  heart  in  her  breast  was  a  different  and  sep- 
arate organ  from  the  one  she  had  carried  aboard. 

As  the  boat  put  off  again  for  the  ship,  its  crew 
gave  a  cheer  coupled  with  some  vile  advice,  for 
which  Brandon  would  gladly  have  run  them 
through,  each  and  every  one.  He  had  to  swallow 
his  chagrin  and  anger,  and  really  blamed  no  one  but 
himself,  though  it  was  torture  to  him  that  this  girl 
should  be  subjected  to  such  insults,  and  he  powerless 
to  avenge  them.  The  news  had  spread  from  the 
wharf  like  wildfire,  and  on  their  way  back  to  the 
Bow  and  String,  there  came  from  small  boys  and 
hidden  voices  such  exclamations  as:  "Look  at  the 


^he  Elopement  285 

woman  in  man's  clothings ;"  "Isn't  he  a  beautiful 
man  ?"  "Look  at  him  blush  ;"  and  others  too  coarse 
to  be  repeated.  Imagine  the  humihating  situation, 
from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

At  last  they  reached  the  inn,  whither  their  chests 
soon  followed  them,  sent  by  Bradhurst,  together 
with  their  passage  money,  which  he  very  honestly 
refunded. 

Mary  soon  donned  her  woman's  attire,  of  which 
she  had  a  supply  in  her  chest,  and  at  least  felt  more 
comfortable  without  the  jack-boots.  She  had  made 
her  toilet  alone  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  having 
no  maid  to  help  her,  and  wept  as  she  dressed,  for 
this  disappointment  was  like  plucking  the  very  heart 
out  of  her.  Her  hope  had  been  so  high  that  the 
fall  was  all  the  harder.  Nay,  even  more ;  hope  had 
become  fruition  to  her  when  they  were  once  a-ship- 
board,  and  failure  right  at  the  door  of  success  made 
it  doubly  hard  to  bear.  It  crushed  her,  and,  where 
before  had  been  hope  and  confidence,  was  nothing 
now  but  despair.  Like  all  people  with  a  great  capac- 
ity for  elation,  when  she  sank  she  touched  the  bot- 
tom. Alas!  Mary,  the  unconquerable,  was  down 
at  last. 

This  failure  meant  so  much  to  her;  it  meant  that 
she  would  never  be  Brandon's  wife,  but  would  go 
to  France  to  endure  the  dreaded  old  Frenchman. 
At  that  thought  a  recoil  came.  Her  spirit  asserted 
itself,  and  she  stamped  her  foot  and  swore  upon  her 
soul  it  should  never  be ;  never  1  never  I  so  long  as 


2S6  IGiJfhen  Knighthood  Was  tnFlotxfer 

she  had  strength  to  fight  or  voice  to  cry,  "No."  The 
thought  of  this  marriage  and  of  the  loss  of  Brandon 
was  painful  enough,  but  there  came  another,  en- 
tirely new  to  her  and  infinitely  worse. 

Hastily  arranging  her  dress,  she  went  in  search 
of  Brandon,  whom  she  quickly  found  and  took  to 
her  room. 

After  closing  the  door  she  said:  "I  thought  I  had 
reached  the  pinnacle  of  disappointment  and  pain 
when  compelled  to  leave  the  ship,  for  it  meant  that 
I  should  lose  you  and  have  to  marry  Louis  of 
France.  But  I  have  found  that  there  is  still  a  pos- 
sible pain  more  poignant  than  either,  and  I  cannot 
bear  it ;  so  I  come  to  you — you  who  are  the  great 
cure  for  all  my  troubles.  Oh !  that  I  could  lay  them 
here  all  my  life  long,"  and  she  put  her  head  upon 
his  breast,  forgetting  what  she  had  intended  to  say. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Mary?" 

"Oh!  yes!  I  thought  of  that  marriage  and  of 
losing  you,  and  then,  oh !  Mary  Mother !  I  thought 
of  some  other  woman  having  you  to  herself.  I  could 
see  her  with  you,  and  I  was  jealous — I  think  they 
call  it.  I  have  heard  of  the  pangs  of  jealousy,  and 
if  the  fear  of  a  rival  is  so  great  what  would  the 
reality  be  ?  It  would  kill  me ;  I  could  not  endure  it, 
I  cannot  endure  even  this,  and  I  want  you  to  swear 
that " 

Brandon  took  her  in  his  arms  as  she  began  to 
weep. 

"I  will  gladly  swear  by  everything  I  hold  sacred 


XShe  Elopement  287 

that  no  other  woman  than  you  shall  ever  be  my  wife. 
If  I  cannot  have  you,  be  sure  you  have  spoiled  every 
other  woman  for  me.  There  is  but  one  in  all  the 
world — but  one.    I  can  at  least  save  you  that  pain." 

She  then  stood  on  tip-toes  to  lift  her  lips  to  him, 
and  said  :  "I  give  you  the  same  promise.  How  you 
must  have  suffered  when  you  thought  I  was  to  wed 
another." 

After  a  pause  she  went  on :  "But  it  might  have 
been  worse — that  is,  it  would  be  worse  if  you  should 
marry  some  other  woman ;  but  that  is  all  settled 
now  and  I  feel  easier.  Then  I  might  have  married 
the  old  French  king,  but  that,  too,  is  settled ;  and 
we  can  endure  the  lesser  pain.  It  always  helps  us 
when  we  are  able  to  think  it  might  have  been 
worse." 

Her  unquestioning  faith  in  Brandon  was  beauti- 
ful, and  she  never  doubted  that  he  spoke  the  unal- 
terable truth  when  he  said  he  would  never  marry 
any  other  woman.  She  had  faith  in  herself,  too,  and 
was  confident  that  her  promise  to  marry  no  man  but 
Brandon  ended  that  important  matter  likewise,  and 
put  the  French  marriage  totally  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  all  time  to  come. 

As  for  Brandon,  he  was  safe  enough  in  his  part 
of  the  contract.  He  knew  only  too  well  that  no 
woman  could  approach  Mary  in  her  inimitable  per- 
fections, and  he  had  tested  his  love  closely  enough, 
in  his  struggle  against  it,  to  feel  that  it  had  taken  up 
its  abode  in  his  heart  to  stay,  whether  he  wanted  it 


s88  XOhen  K.nigh1hood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

or  not.  He  knew  that  he  was  safe  in  making  her 
a  promise  which  he  was  powerless  to  break.  All 
this  he  fully  explained  to  Mary,  as  they  sat  looking 
out  of  the  window  at  the  dreary  rain  which  had 
come  on  again  with  the  gathering  gloom  of  night. 

Brandon  did  not  tell  her  that  his  faith  in  her  ulti- 
mate ability  to  keep  her  promise  was  as  small  as 
it  was  great  in  his  own.  Neither  did  he  dampen 
her  spirits  by  telling  her  that  there  was  a  reason, 
outside  of  himself,  which  in  all  probability  would 
help  him  in  keeping  his  word,  and  save  her  from 
the  pangs  of  that  jealousy  she  so  much  feared; 
namely,  that  he  would  most  certainly  wed  the  block 
and  ax  should  the  king  get  possession  of  him.  He 
might  have  escaped  from  England  in  the  Royal 
Hind,  for  the  wind  had  come  up  shortly  after  they 
left  the  ship,  and  they  could  see  the  sails  indis- 
tinctly through  the  gloom  as  she  got  under  way. 
But  he  could  not  leave  Mary  alone,  and  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  take  her  back  to  London  and  march 
straight  into  the  jaws  of  death  with  her,  if  the 
king's  men  did  not  soon  come. 

He  knew  that  a  debt  to  folly  bears  no  grace,  and 
was  ready  with  his  principal  and  usance. 


CHA.'PTE'R  JTVIIT 

Co  f/)e  Totver 

WHETHER  or  not  Brandon  would  have  found 
some  way  to  deliver  the  princess  safely 
home,  and  still  make  his  escape,  I  cannot 
say,  as  he  soon  had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  At 
midnight  a  body  of  yeomen  from  the  tower  took 
possession  of  the  Bow  and  String,  and  carried  Bran- 
don off  to  London  without  communication  with 
Jtlary.  She  did  not  know  of  his  arrest  until  next 
morning,  when  she  was  mformed  that  she  was  to  fol- 
low immediately,  and  her  heart  was  nearly  broken. 

Here  again  was  trouble  for  Mary.  She  felt,  how- 
ever, that  the  two  great  questions,  the  marriage  of 
herself  to  Louis,  and  Brandon  to  any  other  person, 
were,  as  she  called  it,  "settled";  and  was  almost 
content  to  endure  this  as  a  mere  putting  off  of  bef 
desires — a  meddlesome  and  impertinent  interference 
of  the  Fates,  who  would  soon  learn  with  whom 
they  were  dealing,  and  amend  their  conduct. 

She  did  not  understand  the  consequences  for 
Brandon,  nor  that  the  Fates  would  have  to  change 
their  purpose  very  quickly  or  something  would  hap- 
pen worse,  even,  than  his  marriage  to  another 
woman. 

On  the  second  morning  after  leaving  Bristol, 
Brandon  reached  London,  and,  as  he  expected,  was 
»  (289) 


2go  XOhen  Kjni^hthood  W<w  in  Ftobtter 

sent  to  the  Tower.  The  next  evening  Lady  Mary 
arrived  and  was  taken  down  to  Greenwich. 

The  girl's  fair  name  was,  of  course,  lost — ^but, 
fortunately,  that  goes  for  little  with  a  princess — 
since  no  one  would  believe  that  Brandon  had  pro- 
tected her  against  himself  as  valiantly  and  honor- 
ably as  he  would  against  another.  The  princess 
being  much  more  unsophisticated  than  the  courtiers 
were  ready  to  believe,  never  thought  of  saying  any- 
thing to  establish  her  innocence  or  virtue,  and  her 
silence  was  put  down  to  shame  and  taken  as  evi- 
dence against  her. 

Jane  met  Mary  at  Windsor,  and,  of  course,  there 
was  a  great  flood  of  tears. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  palace,  the  girls  were  left 
to  themselves,  upon  Mary's  promise  not  to  leave 
her  room ;  but,  by  the  next  afternoon,  she,  having 
been  unable  to  learn  anything  concerning  Brandon, 
broke  her  parole  and  went  out  to  see  the  king. 

It  never  occurred  to  Alarv  that  Brandon  might 
suffer  death  for  attempting  to  run  away  with  hex. 
She  knew  only  too  well  that  she  alone  was  to  blame, 
not  only  for  that,  but  for  all  that  had  taken  place 
between  them,  and  never  for  one  moment  thought 
that  he  might  be  punished  for  her  fault,  even  admit- 
ting there  was  fault  in  any  one,  which  she  was  by 
no  means  ready  to  do. 

The  trouble  in  her  mind,  growing  out  of  a  lack  of 
news  from  Brandon,  was  of  a  general  nature,  and 
the  possibility  of  his  death  had  no  place  in  her 


Uo  the  Tobver  2gi 

thoughts.  Nevertheless,  for  the  second  time,  Bran- 
don had  been  condemned  to  die  for  her  sake.  The 
king's  seal  had  stamped  the  warrant  for  the  exe- 
cution, and  the  headsman  had  sharpened  his  ax 
and  could  almost  count  the  golden  fee  for  liis 
butchery. 

Mary  found  the  king  playing  cards  with  de 
Longueville.  There  was  a  roomful  of  courtiers,  and 
as  she  entered  she  was  the  target  for  every  eye; 
but  she  was  on  familiar  ground  now,  and  did  not 
care  for  the  glances  nor  the  observers,  most  of  whom 
she  despised.  She  was  the  princess  again  and  full 
of  self-confidence ;  so  she  went  straight  to  the 
object  of  her  visit,  the  king.  She  had  not  made 
up  her  mind  just  what  to  say  first,  there  was  so 
much  ;  but  Henry  saved  her  the  trouble.  He,  of 
course,  was  in  a  great  rage,  and  denounced  Mary's 
conduct  as  unnatural  and  treasonable ;  the  latter, 
in  Henry's  mind,  being  a  crime  many  times  greater 
than  the  breaking  of  all  the  commandments  put  to- 
gether, in  one  fell,  composite  act.  All  this  the  king 
had  communicated  to  Mary  by  the  lips  of  Wolsey 
the  evening  before,  and  Mary  had  received  it  with 
a  silent  scorn  that  would  have  withered  any  one 
but  the  worthy  bishop  of  York.  As  I  said,  when 
Mary  approached  her  brother,  he  saved  her  the 
trouble  of  deciding  where  to  begin  by  speaking  first 
himself,  and  his  words  were  of  a  part  with  his 
nature — violent,  cruel  and  vulgar.  He  abused  her 
and  called  her  all  the  vile  names  in  his  ample  vocab- 


292   te^hen  Kjii^hthood  Wcw-  in  Flower 

ulary  of  billingsgate.  The  queen  was  present  and 
aided  and  abetted  with  a  word  now  and  then,  until 
Henry,  with  her  help,  at  last  succeeded  in  working 
himself  into  a  towering  passion,  and  wound  up  by 
calling  Mary  a  vile  wanton  in  plainer  terms  than 
I  like  to  write.  This  aroused  all  the  antagonism 
in  the  girl,  and  there  was  plenty  of  it.  She  feared 
Henry  no  more  than  she  feared  me.  Her  eyes 
flashed  a  fire  that  made  even  the  king  draw  back 
as  she  exclaimed :  "You  give  me  that  name  and 
expect  me  to  remember  you  are  my  brother  ?  There 
are  words  that  make  a  mother  hate  her  first-born, 
and  that  is  one.  Tell  me  what  I  have  done  to  de- 
serve it?  I  expected  to  hear  of  ingratitude  and 
disobedience  and  all  that,  but  supposed  you  had  at 
least  some  traces  of  brotherly  feeling — for  ties  of 
blood  are  hard  to  break — even  if  you  have  of  late 
Jost  all  semblance  to  man  or  king." 

This  was  hitting  Henry  hard,  for  it  was  beginning 
to  be  the  talk  in  every  mouth  that  he  was  leaving 
all  the  affairs  of  state  to  Wolsey  and  spending  his 
time  in  puerile  amusement.  "The  toward  hope 
which  at  all  poyntes  appeared  in  the  younge  Kynge" 
was  beginning  to  look,  after  all,  like  nothing  more 
than  the  old-time  royal  cold  fire,  made  to  consume 
but  not  to  warm  the  nation. 

Henry  looked  at  Mary  with  the  stare  of  a  baited 
bull. 

"If  running  off  in  male  attire,  and  stopping  av 
inns  and  boarding  ships  with  a  common  Captain  ot 


1) 


a; 


0) 


r. 


00 


O 

o 


3J 

3 


Uo  the  Tcbuer  293 

the  g^ard  doesn't  justify  my  accusation  and  stamp 
you  what  you  are,  I  do  not  know  what  would." 

Even  Henry  saw  her  innocence  in  her  genuine 
surprise.  She  was  silent  for  a  little  time,  and  I, 
standing  close  to  her,  could  plainly  see  that  this 
phase  of  the  question  had  never  before  presented  it- 
self. 

She  hung  her  head  for  a  moment  and  then  spoke : 
"It  may  be  true,  as  you  say,  that  what  I  have  done 
will  lose  me  my  fair  name — I  had  never  thought  of 
it  in  that  light — but  it  is  also  true  that  I  am  inno- 
cent and  have  done  no  wrong.  You  may  not  believe 
me,  but  you  can  ask  Master  Brandon" — here  the 
king  gave  a  great  laugh,  and  of  course  the  courtiers 
joined  in. 

"It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  laugh,  but  Mas- 
ter Brandon  would  not  tell  you  a  lie  for  your 
crown — "  Gods !  I  could  have  fallen  on  my  knees 
to  a  faith  like  that — "What  I  tell  you  is  true.  I 
trusted  him  so  completely  that  the  fear  of  dis- 
honor at  his  hands  never  suggested  itself  to  me. 
I  knew  he  would  care  for  and  respect  me.  I  trusted 
him,  and  my  trust  was  not  misplaced.  Of  how 
many  of  these  creatures  who  laugh  when  the  king 
laughs  could  I  say  as  much?"  And  Henry  knew 
she  spoke  the  truth,  both  concerning  herself  and 
the  courtiers. 

With  downcast  eyes  she  continued:  "I  suppose, 
after  all,  you  are  partly  right  in  regard  to  me  ;  for  it 
was  his  honor  that  saved  me,  not  my  own ;  and  if  I 


294  ^SOhen  K,ni^hlhood  Wcw  in  FJotuet 

am  not  what  you  called  me  I  hAve  Master  Bran- 
don to  thank — not  myself.** 

"We  will  thank  him  publicly  on  Tower  Hill,  day 
after  to-morrow,  at  noon,"  said  the  king,  with  his 
accustomed  delicacy,  breaking  the  news  of  Bran- 
don's sentence  as  abruptly  as  possible. 

With  a  look  of  terror  in  her  eyes,  Mary  screamed : 

"What !    Charles  Brandon. . .  .Tower  Hill? You 

are  going  to  kill  him  ?" 

"I  think  we  will,"  responded  Henry;  "it  usually 
has  that  effect,  to  separate  the  head  from  the  body 
and  quarter  the  remains  to  decorate  the  four  gates. 
We  will  take  you  up  to  London  in  a  day  or  two  and 
let  you  see  his  beautiful  head  on  the  bridge." 

"Behead — quarter — bridge !  Lord  Jesu !"  She 
could  not  grasp  the  thought ;  she  tried  to  speak,  but 
the  words  would  not  come.  In  a  moment  she  be- 
came more  coherent,  and  the  words  rolled  from  her 
lips  as  a  mighty  flood  tide  pours  back  through  the 
arches  of  London  Bridge. 

"You  shall  not  kill  him ;  he  is  blameless ;  you 
do  not  know.  Drive  these  gawking  fools  out  of 
the  room,  and  I  will  tell  you  all."  The  king  ordered 
the  room  cleared  of  everybody  but  Wolsey,  Jane 
and  myself,  who  remained  at  Mary's  request.  When 
all  were  gone,  the  princess  continued:  "Brother, 
this  man  is  in  no  way  to  blame;  it  is  all  my  fault 
— my  fault  that  he  loves  me ;  my  fault  that  he  tried 
to  run  away  to  New  Spain  with  me.  It  may  be  that 
I  have  done  wrong  and  that  my  conduct  has  been 


Uo  the  Tobuer  295 

unmaidenly,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  From  the  first 
time  I  ever  saw  him  in  the  lists  with  you  at  Windsor 
there  was  a  gnawing  hunger  in  my  heart  beyond  my 
control.  I  supposed,  of  course,  that  day  he  would 
contrive  some  way  to  be  presented  to  me. . . ." 

"You  did?" 

"Yes,  but  he  made  no  effort  at  all,  and  when  we 
met  he  treated  me  as  if  I  were  an  ordinary  girl." 

"He  did?" 

"Yes." 

"Horrible." 

Mary  was  too  intent  on  her  story  to  heed  the 
sarcasm,  and  continued:  "That  made  me  all  the 
more  interested  in  him  since  it  showed  that  he  was 
different  from  the  wretches  who  beset  you  and  me 
witli  their  flattery,  and  I  soon  began  to  seek  him 
on  every  occasion.  This  is  an  unmaidenly  history 
I  am  giving,  I  know,  but  it  is  the  truth,  and  must 
be  told.  I  was  satisfied  at  first  if  I  could  only  be 
in  the  same  room  with  him,  and  see  his  face,  and 
hear  his  voice.  The  very  air  he  breathed  was  like 
an  elixir  for  me.  I  made  every  excuse  to  have  him 
near  me;  I  asked  him  to  my  parlor — you  know 
about  that — and — and  did  all  I  could  to  be  with  him. 
At  first  he  was  gentle  and  kind,  but  soon,  I  think, 
he  saw  the  dawning  danger  in  both  our  hearts,  as  I 
too  saw  it,  and  he  avoided  me  in  every  way  he 
could,  knowing  the  trouble  it  held  for  us  both. 
Oh !  he  was  the  wiser — and  to  think  to  what  I  have 
brought  him.     Brother,  let  me  die  for  him — I  who 


296  tOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Ftotoet 

alone  am  to  blame;  take  my  life  and  spare  him — 
spare  him !  He  was  the  wiser,  but  I  doubt  if  all 
the  wisdom  in  the  world  could  have  saved  us.  He 
almost  insulted  me  once  in  the  park — told  me  to 
leave  him — when  it  hurt  him  more  than  me,  I  am 
now  sure ;  but  he  did  it  to  keep  matters  from  grow- 
ing worse  between  us.  I  tried  to  remember  the 
affront,  but  could  not,  and  had  he  struck  me  I  be- 
lieve I  should  have  gone  back  to  him  sooner  or  later. 
Oh !  it  was  all  my  fault ;  I  would  not  let  him  save 
himself.  So  strong  was  my  feeling  that  I  could 
bear  his  silence  no  longer,  and  one  day  I  went  to 
him  in  your  bed-chamber  ante-room  and  fairly 
thrust  myself  and  my  love  upon  him.  Then,  after 
he  was  liberated  from  Newgate,  I  could  not  induce 
him  to  come  to  me,  so  I  went  to  him  and  begged  for 
his  love.  Then  I  coaxed  him  into  taking  me  to 
New  Spain,  and  would  listen  to  no  excuse  and  hear 
no  reason.  Now  lives  there  another  man  who  would 
have  taken  so  much  coaxing?" 

"No!  by  heaven!  your  majesty,"  said  Wolsey, 
who  really  had  a  kindly  feeling  for  Brandon  and 
would  gladly  save  his  life,  if,  by  so  doing,  he  would 
not  interfere  with  any  of  his  own  plans  and  inter- 
ests. Wolsey's  heart  was  naturally  kind  when  it 
cost  him  nothing,  and  much  has  been  related  of  him, 
which,  to  say  the  least,  tells  a  great  deal  more  than 
the  truth.  Ingratitude  always  recoils  upon  the  in- 
grate,  and  Henry's  loss  was  greater  than  Wolsey's 
when  Wolsey  fell. 


tSo  the  Totver  2^7, 

Henry  really  liked,  or,  rather,  admired,  Bran- 
don, as  had  often  been  shown,  but  his  nature  was 
incapable  of  real  affection.  The  highest  point  he 
ever  reached  was  admiration,  often  quite  extrava- 
gant for  a  time,  but  usually  short-lived,  as  naked 
admiration  is  apt  to  be.  If  he  had  affection  for 
any  one  it  was  for  Mary,  He  could  not  but  see  the 
justice  of  his  sister's  position,  but  he  had  no  inten- 
tion of  allowing  justice,  in  the  sense  of  right,  to 
interfere  with  justice  in  the  sense  of  the  king's 
will. 

"You  have  been  playing  the  devil  at  a  great  rate," 
he  said.  "You  have  disobeyed  your  brother  and 
your  king ;  have  disgraced  yourself ;  have  probably 
made  trouble  between  us  and  France,  for  if  Louis 
refuses  to  take  you  now  I  will  cram  you  down  his 
throat ;  and  by  your  own  story  have  led  a  good  man 
to  the  block.  Quite  a  budget  of  evils  for  one  woman 
to  open.  But  I  have  noticed  that  the  trouble  a 
woman  can  make  is  in  proportion  to  her  beauty, 
and  no  wonder  my  little  sister  has  made  so  much 
disturbance.  It  is  strange,  though,  that  he  should 
so  affect  you.  Master  Wolsey,  surely  there  has  been 
witchery  here.  He  must  have  used  it  abundantly 
to  cast  such  a  spell  over  my  sister."  Then  turning 
to  the  princess :  "Was  it  at  any  time  possible  for 
him  to  have  given  you  a  love  powder ;  or  did  he 
ever  make  any  signs  or  passes  over  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  nothing  of  that  sort.  I  never  ate  or 
drank    anything    which    he    could    possibly    have 


298   XOhen  Kjnighihood  Wa^  in  Ftobuer 

touched.  And  as  to  signs  and  passes,  I  know  he 
never  made  any.  Sir  Edwin,  you  were  always  pres- 
ent when  I  was  with  him  until  after  we  left  for  Bris- 
tol ;  did  you  ever  see  anything  of  the  sort?" 

I  answered  "No,"  and  she  went  on.  "Besides, 
I  do  not  believe  much  in  signs  and  passes.  No  one 
can  affect  others  unless  he  can  induce  them  to  eat 
or  drink  something  in  which  he  has  placed  a  love 
powder  or  potion.  Then  again,  Master  Brandon 
did  not  want  me  to  love  him,  and  surely  would  not 
have  used  such  a  method  to  gain  what  he  could 
have  had  freely  without  it." 

I  noticed  that  Henry's  mind  had  wandered  from 
what  Mary  was  saying,  and  that  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  me  with  a  thoughtful,  half  vicious,  inquiring 
stare  that  I  did  not  like.  I  wondered  what  was 
coming  next,  but  my  curiosity  was  more  than  sat- 
isfied when  the  king  asked :  "So  Caskoden  was 
present  at  all  your  interviews?" 

Ah!  Holy  Mother!  I  knew  what  was  coming 
now,  and  actually  began  to  shrivel  with  fright.  The 
king  continued:  "I  suppose  he  helped  you  to  es- 
cape ?" 

I  thought  my  day  had  come,  but  Mary's  wit  was 
equal  to  the  occasion.  With  an  expression  on  her 
face  of  the  most  dove-like  innocence,  she  quickly 
said: 

"Oh !  no !  neither  he  nor  Jane  knew  anything  of 
it.    We  were  afraid  they  might  divulge  it.** 

Shade  of  Sapphira ! 


Uo  the  Totiper  299 

A  lie  is  a  pretty  good  thing,  too,  now  and  then, 
and  the  man  who  says  that  word  of  Mary's  was  not 
a  blessed  lie,  must  fight  me  with  lance,  battle-ax, 
sword  and  dagger  till  one  or  the  other  of  us  bites 
the  dust  in  death,  be  he  great  or  small. 

"I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  knew  nothing  of  it," 
said  Henry,  addressing  me ;  and  I  was  glad,  too, 
for  him  to  learn  it,  you  may  be  sure. 

Then  spoke  Wolsey :  "If  your  majesty  will  per- 
mit, I  would  say  that  I  quite  agree  with  you ;  there 
has  been  witchery  here — witchery  of  the  most  potent 
kind  ;  the  witchery  of  lustrous  eyes,  of  fair  skin  and 
rosy  lips ;  the  witchery  of  all  that  is  sweet  and  intox- 
icating in  womanhood,  but  Master  Brandon  has 
been  the  victim  of  this  potent  spell,  not  the  user 
of  it.  One  look  upon  your  sister  standing  there, 
and  I  know  your  majesty  will  agree  that  Brandon 
had  no  choice  against  her." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  returned  Henry. 

Then  spoke  Mary,  all  unconscious  of  her  girlish 
egotism:  "Of  course  he  had  not.  Master  Brandon 
could  not  help  it."  Which  was  true  beyond  all 
doubt. 

Henry  laughed  at  her  naivete,  and  Wolsey 's  lips 
wore  a  smile,  as  he  plucked  the  king  by  the  sleeve 
and  took  him  over  to  the  window,  out  of  our  hear- 
ing. 

Mary  began  to  weep  and  show  sig^s  of  increasing 
agitation. 

After  a  short  whispered  conversation,  the  king 


300  ^S^hen  Kjnighihooi  Was  in  Flotjev 

and  Wo'lsey  came  back  and  the  former  said :  "Sis- 
ter, If  I  promise  to  give  Brandon  his  life,  will  you 
consent  decently  and  like  a  good  girl  to  marry  Louis 
of  France  ?" 

Mary  almost  screamed,  "Yes,  yes ;  gladly ;  I  will 
do  anything  you  ask,"  and  fell  at  his  feet  hysteric- 
ally embracing  his  knees. 

As  the  king  stooped  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet, 
he  kissed  her,  saying :  "His  life  shall  be  spared,  my 
sweet  sister."  After  this,  Henry  felt  that  he  had 
done  a  wonderfully  gracious  act  and  was  the  kind- 
est-hearted prince  in  all  Christendom. 

Poor  Mary !  Two  mighty  kings  and  their  great 
ministers  of  state  had  at  last  conquered  you,  but 
they  had  to  strike  you  through  your  love — the  vul- 
nerable spot  in  every  woman. 

Jane  and  I  led  Mary  away  through  a  side  door 
and  the  king  called  for  de  Longueville  to  finish  the 
interrupted  game  of  cards. 

Before  the  play  was  resumed  Wolsey  stepped 
softly  around  to  the  king  and  asked :  "Shall  I  affix 
your  majesty's  seal  to  Brandon's  pardon?" 

"Yes,  but  keep  him  in  the  Tower  until  Mary  is 
off  for  France." 

Wolsey  had  certainly  been  a  friend  to  Brandon 
in  time  of  need,  but,  as  usual,  he  had  value  received 
for  his  friendliness.  He  was  an  ardent  advocate 
of  the  French  marriage,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
he  had  told  Mary  he  was  not ;  having  no  doubt  been 
bribed  thereto  by  the  French  king. 


Uo  the  Totuer  30I1 

The  good  bishop  had,  with  the  help  of  de  Longue- 
ville,  secretly  sent  Mary's  miniature  to  the  French 
court  in  order  that  it  might,  as  if  by  accident,  fall 
into  the  hands  of  Louis,  and  that  worthy's  little, 
old,  shriveled  heart  began  to  flutter,  just  as  if  there 
could  be  kindled  in  it  a  genuine  flame. 

Louis  had  sent  to  de  Longueville,  who  was  then 
in  England,  for  confirmation  of  Mary's  beauty,  and 
de  Longueville  grew  so  eloquent  on  the  theme  that 
his  French  majesty  at  once  authorized  negotiations. 

As  reports  came  in  Louis  grew  more  and  more 
impatient.  This  did  not,  however,  stand  in  the  way 
of  his  driving  a  hard  bargain  in  the  matter  of  dowser, 
for  "The  Father  of  the  People"  had  the  charac- 
teristics of  his  race,  and  was  intensely  practical 
as  well  as  inflammable.  They  never  lose  sight  of  the 
dot — but  I  do  not  find  fault. 

Louis  little  knew  what  thorns  this  lovely  rose 
had  underneath  her  velvet  leaves,  and  w-hat  a  verita- 
ble Tartar  she  would  be,  linked  to  the  man  she  did 
not  love ;  or  he  would  have  given  Henry  four 
hundred  thousand  crowns  to  keep  her  at  home. 


CHATTB'R  XIX 

T^rO'Serptna 

O  the  value  received  for  Wolsey's  friendship 
to  Brandon  was  Mary's  promise  to  marry 
Louis. 

Mary  wanted  to  send  a  message  at  once  to 
Brandon,  telling  him  his  life  would  be  spared,  and 
that  she  had  made  no  delay  this  time — a  fact  of  which 
she  was  very  proud — but  the  Tower  gates  would 
not  open  until  morning,  so  she  had  to  wait.  She 
compensated  herself  as  well  as  she  could  by  writ- 
ing a  letter,  which  I  should  like  to  give  you  here, 
but  it  is  too  long.  She  told  him  of  his  pardon,  but 
not  one  word  upon  the  theme  he  so  wished  yet 
feared  to  hear  of — her  promise  never  to  wed  any 
other  man.  Mary  had  not  told  him  of  her  final 
surrender  in  the  matter  of  the  French  marriage,  for 
the  reason  that  she  dreaded  to  pain  him,  and  feared 
he  might  refuse  the  sacrifice. 

"It  will  almost  kill  him,  I  know,"  she  said  to  Jane 
that  night,  "and  I  fear  it  is  a  false  kindness  I  do 
him.  He  would,  probably,  rather  die  than  that  I 
should  marry  another ;  I  know  that  I  should  rather 
die,  or  have  anything  else  terrible  to  happen,  than 
for  another  woman  to  possess  him.  He  promised  me 
he  never  would;  but  suppose  he  should  fail  in  his 
word,  as  I  have  to-day  failed  in  mine  ?   The  thought 

(302) 


T^ro^erptna  303 

of  it  absolutely  burns  me."  And  she  tb.rew  herself 
into  Jane's  arms,  and  that  little  comforter  tried 
to  soothe  her  by  making  light  of  her  fears. 

"Oh!   but  suppose  he  should?" 

"Well !  there  is  no  need  to  borrow  trouble.  You 
said  he  promised  you,  ;md  you  know  he  is  one  who 
keeps  his  word." 

"But  I  promised,  tco,  and  think  of  what  I  am 
about  to  do.  Mary  in  heaven,  help  me !  But  he  is 
made  of  different  stuff  from  me.  I  can  and  do  trust 
his  word,  and  when  I  think  of  all  my  troubles,  and 
when  it  seems  that  I  cannot  bear  them,  the  one 
comforting  thought  comes  that  no  other  woman 
will  ever  possess  him ;  no  other  woman ;  no  other 
woman.  I  am  glad  that  my  only  comfort  comes 
from  him." 

"I  hoped  that  I  might  have  been  some  comfort 
to  you ;  I  have  tried  hard  enough,"  said  Jane,  who 
was  jealous. 

"Oh !  yes !  my  sweet  Jane ;  you  do  comfort  me ; 
you  are  like  a  soothing  balm  to  an  aching  pain," 
and  she  kissed  the  hands  that  held  hers.  This  was 
all  that  modest  little  Jane  required.  She  was  con- 
tent to  be  an  humble  balm  and  did  not  aspire  to  the 
dignity  of  an  elixir. 

The  girls  then  said  their  prayers  in  concert  and 
Mary  gently  wept  herself  to  sleep.  She  lay  dream- 
ing and  tossing  nervously  until  sunrise,  when  she 
got  up  and  added  more  pages  to  her  letter,  until  I 
called  to  take  it. 


304  ^Q^hen  Kjntghihood  Wa^s  in  Flower 

I  was  on  hand  soon  after  the  Tower  gates  had 
opened  and  was  permitted  to  see  Brandon  at  once. 
He  read  Mary's  letter  and  acted  Hke  every  other 
lover,  since  love-letters  first  began.  He  was  quick 
to  note  the  absence  of  the  longed  for,  but  not  ex- 
pected assurance,  and  when  he  did  not  see  it  went 
straight  to  the  point. 

"She  has  promised  to  marry  the  French  king  to 
purchase  my  life.    Is  that  not  true  ?" 

"I  hope  not,"  I  answered,  evasively ;  "I  have  seen 
very  little  of  her,  and  she  has  said  nothing  about  it." 

"You  are  evading  my  question,  I  see.  Do  you 
know  nothing  of  it  ?" 

"Nothing,"  I  replied,  telling  an  unnecessary  lie. 

"Caskoden,  you  are  either  a  liar  or  a  blockhead." 

"Make  it  a  liar,  Brandon,"  said  I,  laughingly, 
for  I  was  sure  of  my  place  in  his  heart  and  knew 
that  he  meant  no  offense. 

I  never  doubt  a  friend ;  one  would  better  be 
trustful  of  ninety-nine  friends  who  are  false  than 
doubtful  of  one  who  is  true.  Suspicion  and  super- 
sensitiveness  are  at  once  the  badge  and  the  bane  of 
a  little  soul. 

I  did  not  leave  the  Tower  until  noon,  and  Bran- 
don's pardon  had  been  delivered  to  him  before  I 
left.  He  was  gla<'  that  the  first  news  of  it  had  come 
from  Mary. 

He  naturally  expected  his  liberty  at  once,  and 
when  told  that  he  was  to  be  honorably  detained  for 
a  short  time,  turned  to  me  and  said:    "I  suppose 


Pro^rerptna  305 

they  are  afraid  to  let  me  out  until  she  is  off  for 
France,    King  Henry  flatters  me." 

I  looked  out  of  the  window  up  Tower  street  and 
said  nothing. 

When  I  left  I  took  a  letter  to  Mary,  which  plainly 
told  her  he  had  divined  it  all,  and  she  wrote  a 
tear-stained  answer,  begging  him  to  forgive  her  for 
having  saved  his  life  at  a  cost  greater  than  her 
own. 

For  several  days  I  was  kept  busy  carrying  letters 
from  Greenwich  to  the  Tower  and  back  again,  but 
soon  letters  ceased  to  satisfy  Mary,  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  she  must  see  him.  Nothing  else 
would  do.  She  must  not,  could  not,  and,  in  short, 
would  not  go  another  day  without  seeing  him ;  no, 
not  another  hour.  Jane  and  I  opposed  her  all  we 
could,  but  the  best  we  could  accomplish  was  to  in- 
duce her  for  Brandon's  sake — for  she  was  begin- 
ning to  see  that  he  was  the  one  who  had  to  suffer 
for  her  indiscretions — to  ask  Henry's  permission, 
and  if  he  refused,  then  try  some  other  way.  To 
determine  was  to  act  with  Mary,  so  off  she  went 
without  delay  to  hunt  the  king,  taking  Jane  and 
me  along  as  escort.  How  full  we  were  of  important 
business,  as  we  scurried  along  the  corridors,  one 
on  each  side  of  Mary,  all  talking'  excitedly  at  once. 
When  anything  was  to  be  done,  it  always  required 
three  of  us  to  do  it. 

We  found   the  king,  and   without  any   prelude, 

Mar)'  proffered  her  request.    Of  course  it  was  re- 
20 


3o6   XOhen  K.ni^hthood  Was  in  JTloiefer 

fused.  Mary  pouted,  and  was  getting  ready  for 
an  outburst,  when  Wolsey  spoke  up:  "With  your 
majesty's  gracious  permission,  I  would  subscribe  to 
the  petition  of  the  princess.  She  has  been  good 
enough  to  give  her  promise  in  the  matter  of  so 
much  importance  to  us,  and  in  so  small  a  thing  as 
this  I  hope  you  may  see  your  way  clear  toward  fa- 
voring her.  The  interview  will  be  the  last  and 
may  help  to  make  her  duty  easier."  Mary  gave  the 
cardinal  a  fleeting  glance  from  her  lustrous  eyes 
full  of  surprise  and  gratitude,  and  as  speaking  as  a 
book. 

Henry  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us  for  a 
moment,  and  broke  into  a  boisterous  laugh. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,  so  that  you  keep  it  a  secret.  The 
old  king  will  never  know.  We  can  hurry  up  the 
marriage.  He  is  getting  too  much  already;  four 
hundred  thousand  crowns  and  a  girl  like  you;  he 
cannot  complain  if  he  have  an  heir.  It  would  be  a 
good  joke  on  the  miserly  old  dotard,  but  better  on 
'Ce  Gros  Garcon.' " 

Mary  sprang  from  her  chair  with  a  cry  of  rage. 
"You  brute !  Do  you  think  I  am  as  vile  as  you  be- 
cause I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  your  sister,  or 
that  Charles  Brandon  is  like  you  simply  because  he 
is  a  man  ?"  Henry  laughed,  his  health  at  that  time 
being  too  good  for  him  to  be  ill-natured.  He  had 
all  he  wanted  out  of  his  sister,  so  her  outbursts 
amused  him. 

Mary  hurriedly  left  the  king  and  walked  back 


( 


Troserpina  307 

to  her  room,  filled  with  shame  and  rage ;  feelings 
actively  stimulated  by  Jane,  who  was  equally  indig- 
nant. 

Henry  had  noticed  Jane's  frown,  but  had  laughed 
at  her,  and  had  tried  to  catch  and  kiss  her  as  she 
left;  but  she  struggled  away  from  him  and  fled 
with  a  speed  worthy  of  the  cause. 

This  insulting  suggestion  put  a  stop  to  Mary's 
visit  to  the  Tower  more  effectually  than  any  refusal 
could  have  done,  and  she  sat  down  to  pour  forth 
her  soul's  indignation  in  a  letter. 

She  remained  at  home  then,  but  saw  Brandon 
later,  and  to  good  purpose,  as  I  believe,  although  I 
am  not  sure  about  it,  even  to  this  day. 

I  took  this  letter  to  Brandon,  along  with  Mary's 
miniature — the  one  that  had  been  painted  for  Charles 
of  Germany,  but  had  never  been  given — and  a  curl 
of  her  hair,  and  it  looked  as  if  this  was  all  he  would 
ever  possess  of  her. 

De  Longueville  heard  of  Henry's  brutal  consent 
that  Mary  might  see  Brandon,  and,  with  a  French- 
man's belief  in  woman's  depravity,  was  exceedingly 
anxious  to  keep  them  apart.  To  this  end  he  re- 
quested that  a  member  of  his  own  retinue  be  placed 
near  Brandon.  To  this  Henry  readily  consented, 
and  there  was  an  end  to  even  the  letter-writing. 
Opportunities  increase  in  value  doubly  fast  as  they 
drift  behind  us,  and  now  that  the  princess  could 
not  see  Brandon,  or  even  write  to  him,  she  regretted 
with  her  whole  soul  that  she  had  not  gone  to  the 


3o8  XOhen  Kjit^hihood  Wa^  tn  Flotuer 

Tower  when  she  had  permission,  regardless  of  what 
any  one  would  say  or  think. 

Mary  was  imperious  and  impatient,  by  nature, 
but  upon  rare  and  urgent  occasions  could  employ 
the  very  smoothest  sort  of  finesse. 

Her  promise  to  marry  Louis  of  France  had  been 
given  under  the  stress  of  a  frantic  fear  for  Brandon, 
and  without  the  slightest  mental  reservation,  for 
it  was  given  to  save  his  life,  as  she  would  have  given 
her  hands  or  her  eyes,  her  life  or  her  very  soul, 
itself ;  but  now  that  the  imminent  danger  was  passed^ 
she  began  to  revolve  schemes  to  evade  her  promise 
and  save  Brandon  notwithstanding.  She  knew  that 
under  the  present  arrangement  his  life  depended 
upon  her  marriage,  but  she  had  never  lost  faith  in 
her  ability  to  handle  the  king  if  she  had  but  a  little 
time  in  which  to  operate,  and  had  secretly  regretted 
that  she  had  not,  in  place  of  flight,  opened  up  her 
campaign  along  the  line  of  feminine  diplomacy  at 
the  very  beginning. 

Henry  was  a  dullard  mentally,  while  Mary's  mind 
was  keen  and  alert — two  facts  of  which  the  girl 
was  perfectly  aware — so  it  was  no  wonder  she  had 
such  confidence  in  herself.  When  she  first  heard 
of  Brandon's  sentence  her  fear  for  him  was  so  great, 
and  the  need  for  action  so  urgent,  that  she  could  not 
resort  to  her  usual  methods  for  turning  matters  her 
way,  but  eagerly  applied  the  first  and  quickest  rem- 
edy offered.  Now,  however,  that  she  had  a  breath* 
ing  spell,  and  time  in  which  to  operate  her  more 


Yro^erptna  3^9 

slowly  moving,  but,  as  she  thought,  equally  sure 
forces  of  cajolery  and  persuasion,  she  determined 
to  marshal  the  legions  of  her  wit  and  carrj'  war  into 
the  enemy's  countr}'  at  once. 

Henry's  brutal  selfishness  in  forcing  upon  her  the 
French  marriage,  together  with  his  cruel  condemna- 
tion of  Brandon,  and  his  vile  insinuations  against 
herself,  had  driven  nearly  ever}'  spark  of  afifection 
for  her  brother  from  her  heart.  But  she  felt  that 
she  might  feign  an  affection  she  did  not  feel,  and 
that  what  she  so  wanted  would  be  cheap  at  the 
price.  Cheap?  It  would  be  cheap  at  the  cost  of 
her  immortal  soul.  Oieap?  What  she  wanted  was 
life's  condensed  sweets — the  man  she  loved;  and 
what  she  wanted  to  escape  was  life's  distilled  bit- 
terness— marriage  with  a  man  she  loathed.  None 
but  a  pure  woman  can  know  the  torture  of  that.  I 
saw  this  whole  disastrous  campaign  from  start  to 
finish.  Mary  began  with  a  wide  flank  movement 
conducted  under  masked  batteries  and  skilfully  exe- 
cuted. She  sighed  over  her  troubles  and  cried  a 
g^eat  deal,  but  told  the  king  he  had  been  such  a 
dear,  kind  brother  to  her  that  she  would  gladly 
do  anything  to  please  him  and  advance  his  interests. 
She  said  it  would  be  torture  to  live  with  that  old 
creature,  King  Louis,  but  she  would  do  it  willingly 
to  help  her  handsome  brother,  no  matter  how  mudi 
she  might  suffer. 

The  king  laughed  and  said:  "Poor  old  Louis  I 
WTi at  about  him  ?    What  about  his  suffering?    He 


310  to  hen  Kjnt^hthood  Was  in  Flotxfer 

thinks  he  is  making  such  a  fine  bargain,  hut  the 
Lord  pity  him,  when  he  has  my  little  sister  in  his 
side  for  a  thorn.  He  had  better  employ  some  ener- 
getic soul  to  prick  him  with  needles  and  bodkins, 
for  I  think  there  is  more  power  for  disturbance 
in  this  little  body  than  in  any  other  equal  amount 
of  space  in  all  the  universe.  You  will  furnish  him 
all  the  trouble  he  wants,  won't  you,  sister?" 

"I  shall  try,"  said  the  princess  demurely,  perfectly 
.willing  to  obey  in  everything. 

"Devil  a  doubt  of  that,  and  you  will  succeed,  too, 
or  my  crown's  a  stew-pan,"  and  he  laughed  at  the 
huge  joke  he  was  about  to  perpetrate  on  his  poor, 
old  royal  brother. 

It  would  seem  that  the  tremendous  dose  of  flat- 
tery administered  by  Mary  would  have  been  so 
plainly  self-interested  as  to  alarm  the  dullest  per- 
ception, but  Henry's  vanity  was  so  dense,  and  his 
appetite  for  flattery  so  great,  that  he  accepted  it  all 
without  suspicion,  and  it  made  him  quite  affable 
and  gracious. 

Mary  kept  up  her  show  of  affection  and  docile 
obedience  for  a  week  or  two  until  she  thought 
Henry's  suspicions  were  allayed;  and  then,  after 
Iiaving  done  enough  petting  and  fondling,  as  she 
thought,  to  start  the  earth  itself  a-moving — as  some 
men  are  foolish  enough  to  say  it  really  does — she 
began  the  attack  direct  by  putting  her  arms  about  the 
king's  neck,  and  piteously  begging  him  not  to  sacri- 
fice her  whole  life  by  sending  her  to  Fran«ii 


J"* 


Vro^erpina  3^^ 

Her  pathetic,  soul-charged  appeal  might  have 
softened  the  heart  of  Caligiila  himself;  but  Henry 
was  not  even  cruel.  He  was  simply  an  animal  so 
absorbed  in  himself  that  he  could  not  feel  for  others. 

"Oh !  it  is  out  at  last,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "I 
thought  all  this  sweetness  must  have  been  for  some- 
thing. So  the  lady  wants  her  Brandon,  and  doesn't 
want  her  Louis,  yet  is  willing  to  obey  her  dear, 
kind  brother  ?  Well,  we'll  take  her  at  her  word  and 
let  her  obey.  You  may  as  well  understand,  once  and 
for  all,  that  you  are  to  go  to  France,  You  promised 
to  go  decently  if  I  would  not  cut  off  that  fellow's 
head,  and  now  I  tell  you  that  if  I  hear  another  whim- 
per from  you  off  it  comes,  and  you  will  go  to  FrancCj 
too." 

This  brought  "Wzxy  to  terms  quickly  enough.  If 
touched  her  one  vulnerable  spot — her  love. 

"I  will  go;  I  promise  it  again.  You  shall  nevef 
hear  another  word  of  complaint  from  me  if  you  giv6 
me  your  royal  word  that  no  harm  shall  come  to  him 
— to  him,**  and  she  put  her  hands  over  her  face  to 
conceal  her  tears  as  she  softly  wept. 

"The  day  you  sail  for  France,  Brandon  shall  go 
free  and  shall  again  have  his  old  post  at  court.  I 
like  the  fellow  as  a  good  companion,  and  really  be- 
lieve you  are  more  to  blame  than  he." 

*T  am  all  to  blame,  and  am  ready  this  day  to  pay 
the  penalty.  I  am  at  your  disposal  to  go  when  and 
where  you  choose,"  answered  Mary,  most  pathetic- 
ally. 


gi2  XOhen  Knighthood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

Poor,  fair  Proserpina,  with  no  kind  mother  Deme- 
ter  to  help  her.  The  ground  will  soon  open,  and 
Pluto  will  have  his  bride. 

That  evening  Cavendish  took  me  aside  and  said 
his  master,  Wolsey,  wished  to  speak  to  me  privately 
at  a  convenient  opportunity.  So,  when  the  bishop 
left  his  card-table,  an  hour  later,  I  threw  myself  in 
his  way.  He  spoke  gayly  to  me,  and  we  walked 
down  the  corridor  arm  in  arm.  I  could  not  imagine 
v;hat  was  wanted,  but  presently  it  came  out :  "My 
dear  Caskoden" — had  I  been  one  for  whom  he  could 
have  had  any  use,  I  should  have  grown  suspicious — 
**My  dear  Caskoden,  I  know  I  can  trust  you ;  espe- 
cially when  that  which  I  have  to  say  is  for  the  happi- 
ness of  your  friends.  I  am  sure  you  will  never  name 
me  in  connection  with  the  suggestion  I  am  about  to 
make,  and  will  use  the  thought  only  as  your  own." 

I  did  not  know  what  was  coming,  but  gave  him 
the  strongest  assurance  of  my  trustworthiness. 

"It  is  this:  Louis  of  France  is  little  better  than 
a  dead  man.  King  Henry,  perhaps,  is  not  fully 
aware  of  this,  and,  if  he  is,  he  has  never  considered 
the  probability  of  his  speedy  death.  The  thought 
occurred  to  me  that  although  the  princess  cannot 
dissuade  her  brother  from  this  marriage,  she  may 
be  able,  in  view  of  her  ready  and  cheerful  compli- 
ance, to  extract  some  virtue  out  of  her  sore  neces- 
sity and  induce  him  to  promise  that,  in  case  of  the 
death  of  Louis,  she  herself  shall  choose  her  second 
JiDsband." 


Vro^erptna  313 

"My  lord,"  I  replied,  quickly  grasping  the  point, 
"it  is  small  wonder  you  rule  this  land.  You  have 
both  brain  and  heart." 

"I  tliank  you,  Sir  Edwin,  and  hope  that  both  may 
always  be  at  the  service  of  you  and  your  friends." 

I  gave  the  suggestion  to  Mary  as  my  own,  rec- 
ommending that  she  proffer  her  request  to  the  king 
in  the  presence  of  Wolsey,  and,  although  she  had 
little  faith  or  hope,  she  determined  to  try. 

Within  a  day  or  two  an  opportunity  offered,  and 
she  said  to  Henry:  "I  am  ready  to  go  to  France 
any  time  you  wish,  and  shall  do  it  decently  and 
willingly ;  but  if  I  do  so  much  for  you,  brother, 
you  might  at  least  promise  me  that  when  King 
Louis  is  dead  I  may  marr}'  whomsoever  I  wish.  He 
will  probably  live  forever,  but  let  me  have  at  least 
that  hope  to  give  me  what  cheer  it  may  while  I 
suffer." 

The  ever-present  Wolsey,  who  was  standing  near 
and  heard  Mar>''s  petition,  interposed :  'T.et  me  add 
my  prayer  to  that  of  her  highness.  We  must  give 
her  her  own  way  in  something." 

Mary  was  such  a  complete  picture  of  wretched- 
ness that  I  thought  at  the  time  she  had  really  found 
a  tender  spot  in  Henry's  heart,  for  he  gave  the 
promise.  Since  then  I  have  learned,  as  you  will 
shortly,  that  it  was  g^ven  simply  to  pacify  the  girl, 
and  without  any  intention  whatever  of  its  being 
kept;    but   that,    in    case   of   the   death    of    King 


514  tOhen  Kjni^hthood  WtLs  in  Flotoer 

Louis,  Henry  Intended  again  to  use  his  sister  to  his 
own  advantage. 

To  be  a  beautiful  princess  is  not  to  enjoy  the 
bliss  some  people  imagine.  The  earth  is  apt  to  open 
at  any  time,  and  Pluto  to  snatch  her  away  to — ^the 
Lord  knows  where. 

Mary  again  poured  out  her  soul  on  paper — 2.  liba- 
tion intended  for  Brandon.  I  made  a  dozen  at- 
tempts, in  as  many  different  ways,  to  deliver  her 
letters,  but  every  effort  was  a  failure,  and  this  mis- 
sive met  the  fate  of  the  others.  De  Longueville 
kept  close  watch  on  his  master's  rival,  and  com- 
plained to  Henry  about  these  attempts  at  communi- 
cation. Henry  laughed  and  said  he  would  see  that 
they  were  stopped,  but  paid  no  more  attention  to 
the  matter. 

If  Mary,  before  her  interview  with  Henry,  had 
been  averse  to  the  French  marriage,  she  was  now 
equally  anxious  to  hurry  it  on,  and  longed  to  g<3 
upon  the  rack  in  order  that  Brandon  might  be  free. 
He,  of  course,  objected  as  strenuously  as  possible 
to  the  purchase  of  his  life  by  her  marriage  to  Louis, 
but  his  better  judgment  told  him — in  fact,  had  told 
him  from  the  first — that  she  would  be  compelled 
eventually  to  marry  the  French  king,  and  common 
sense  told  him  if  it  must  be,  she  might  as  well  save 
his  life  at  the  same  time.  Furthermore,  he  felt  a 
certain  sense  of  delight  in  owing  his  life  to  her, 
and  knew  that  the  fact  that  she  had  saved  him— 


f^ro^erpfna  315 

that  her  sacrifice  had  not  all  been  in  vain — would 
make  it  easier  for  her  to  bear. 

The  most  beautiful  feature  of  the  relations  be^ 
tween  these  two  lovers  was  their  entire  faith  in  each 
other.  The  way  of  their  true  love  was  at  least  not 
roughened  by  cobble-stones  of  doubt,  however  im- 
passable it  was  from  mountains  of  opposition. 

My  inability  to  deliver  Mary's  letters  did  not  deter 
her  from  writing  them ;  and  as  she  was  to  be  mar- 
ried in  a  few  days — de  Longueville  to  act  as  proxy 
— she  devoted  her  entire  time  to  her  letters,  and 
wrote  pages  upon  pages,  which  she  left  with  me  to 
be  delivered  "after  death,"  as  she  called  her  mar- 
riage. 

At  this  time  I  was  called  away  from  court  for  a 
day  or  two,  and  when  I  returned  and  called  upon 
Brandon  at  the  Tower,  I  found  him  whistling  and 
singing,  apparently  as  happy  as  a  lark.  "You  heart- 
less dog,"  thought  I,  at  first ;  but  I  soon  found  that 
he  felt  more  than  happiness — exaltation. 

"Have  you  seen  her?"  I  asked. 

"Who?"  As  if  there  were  more  than  one  woman 
in  all  the  world  for  him. 

"The  princess." 

"Not  since  I  left  her  at  Bristol." 

I  believed  then,  and  believe  now,  that  this  was 
a  point  blank  falsehood — a  very  unusual  thing  for 
Brandon — but  for  some  reason  probably  necessary 
in  this  case. 

There  was  an  expression  in  his  face  which  I  could 


3i6  X&)hen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Flower 

not  interpret,  but  he  wrote,  as  if  carelessly  scrib- 
bling on  a  scrap  of  paper  that  lay  upon  the  table, 
the  words,  "Be  careful,"  and  I  took  tlie  hint — we 
were  watched.  There  is  an  unpleasant  sensation 
when  one  feels  that  he  is  watched  by  unseen  eyes, 
and  after  talking  for  awhile  on  common  topics  I 
left  and  took  a  boat  for  Greenwich. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  palace  and  saw  Mary^ 
what  was  my  surprise  to  find  her  as  bright  and  jubi- 
lant as  I  had  left  Brandon.  She,  too,  laughed  and 
sang,  and  was  so  happy  that  she  lighted  the  whole 
room.  What  did  it  all  mean?  There  was  but  one 
explanation;  they  had  met,  and  there  was  some 
new  plan  on  foot — with  a  fatal  ending.  The  next 
failure  would  mean  death  to  Brandon,  as  certainly 
as  the  sun  rises  in  the  east.  What  the  plan  was 
I  could  not  guess.  With  Brandon  in  the  Tower 
under  guard  both  day  and  night,  and  Mary  as  closely 
guarded  in  the  palace,  I  could  not  see  any  way  of 
escape  for  either  of  them,  nor  how  they  could  possi- 
bly have  come  together. 

Brandon  had  not  told  me,  I  supposed,  for  fear  of 
being  overheard,  and  Mary,  although  she  had  the 
opportunity,  was  equally  non-communicative,  so  I 
had  recourse  to  Jane  upon  the  first  occasion.  She, 
by  the  way,  was  as  blue  and  sad-faced  as  Mary  was 
joyous.  I  asked  her  if  the  princess  and  Brandon 
had  met,  and  she  sadly  said :  "I  do  not  know.  We 
went  down  to  London  yesterday,  and  as  we  returned 
stopped  at  Bridewell  House,  where  we  found  the 


'Pro^erpinu  317 

king  and  Wolsey.  The  princess  left  the  room, 
saying  she  would  return  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
tnen  Wolsey  went  out,  leaving  me  alone  with  the 
king.  Mary  did  not  return  for  half  an  hour,  and 
she  may  have  seen  Jklaster  Brandon  during  that 
time.  I  do  not  understand  how  the  meeting  could 
have  occurred,  but  that  is  the  only  time  she  has 
been  away  from  me."  Here  Jane  deliberately  put 
her  head  on  my  shoulder  and  began  to  weep  pite- 
ously. 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  I  asked. 

She  shook  her  head:  "I  cannot,  dare  not  tell 
you." 

"Oh !  but  you  must,  you  must,"  and  I  insisted  JT) 
emphatically  that  she  at  length  said: 

"The  king!" 

"The  king !  God  in  heaven,  Jane,  tell  me  quickly."* 
I  had  noticed  Henry  of  late  casting  glances  at  my 
beautiful  little  Jane,  and  had  seen  him  try  to  kiss 
her  a  few  days  before,  as  I  have  told  you.  This  an- 
noyed me  \QTy  much,  but  I  thought  little  of  it,  as  It 
was  his  habit  to  ogle  every  pretty  face.  When 
urged,  Jane  said  between  her  sobs:  "He  tried  to 
kiss  me  and  to — mistreat  me  when  Wolsey  left  the 
room  at  Bridewell  House.  I  may  have  been  used 
to  detain  him,  while  Mary  met  Master  Brandon,  but 
if  so,  I  am  sure  she  knew  nothing  of  it." 

"And  what  did  you  do  ?" 

"I  struggled  away  from  him  and  snatched  this 
dagger  from  my  breast,  telling  him  that  if  he  took 


3i8  tll^hen  Kjitghthood  Wcui  in  Fiokvet' 

but  one  step  toward  me  I  would  plunge  it  in  my 
heart ;  and  he  said  I  was  a  fooL" 

"God  keep  you  always  a  fool,"  said  I,  prayerfully. 
"How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?" 

"A  month  or  two ;  bu.*^  I  have  always  been  able, 
to  run  away  from  him.  He  has  been  growing  more 
importunate  of  late,  so  I  bought  a  dagger  that  very 
day,  and  had  it  not  one  hour  too  soon."  With  this 
she  drew  out  a  gleaming  little  weapon  that  flashed 
in  the  rays  of  the  candle. 

This  was  trouble  in  earnest  for  me,  and  I  showed 
it  very  plainly.  Then  Jane  timidly  put  her  hand  in 
mine,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  and  murmured : 

"We  will  be  married,  Edwin,  if  you  wish,  before 
wc  return  from  France."  She  was  glad  to  fly  to 
me  lo  save  herself  from  Henry,  and  I  was  glad  even 
to  be  the  lesser  of  two  evils. 

As  to  whether  my  two  friends  met  or  not  that 
day  at  Bridewell  I  cannot  say;  but  I  think  they 
did.  They  had  in  some  way  come  to  an  under- 
standing that  lightened  both  their  hearts  before 
Mary  left  for  France,  and  this  had  been  their  only 
possible  opportunity.  Jane  and  I  were  always  taken 
into  their  confidence  on  other  occasions,  but  as  to 
this  meeting,  if  any  there  was,  we  have  never  been 
told  a  word.  My  belief  is  that  the  meeting  was  con- 
trived by  Wolsey  upon  a  solemn  promise  from  Bran- 
don and  Mary  never  to  reveal  it,  and  if  so,  they  have 
sacredly  kept  their  word. 

On  the  13th  of  August,  15 14,  Mary  Tudor,  widl 


f*ro-ferp{na  319 

her  golden  hair  falling-  over  her  shoulders,  was 
married  at  Greenwich  to  Louis  de  Valois;  de 
Longiieville  acting  as  his  French  majesty's  proxy. 
Poor,  fair  Proserpina !. . . . 

Note — Maidens  only  were  married  with  their  hair  down. 
It  was  "the  sacred  token  of  maidenhood." — Editor. 


CHATTE'R  XX 

7}otefn  info  France 

SO  it  came  to  pass  that  Mary  was  married  unto 
Louis  and  went  down  into  France. 

[Again  the  editor  takes  the  liberty  of  sub- 
stituting Hall's  quaint  account  of  Mary's  journey 
to  France.] 

Then  when  all  things  were  redy  for  the  conueyaunce  of 
this  noble  Ladye,  tlxe  l-cyng  her  brother  in  the  moneth  of 
Auguste,  and  the  xV  daye,  with  the  quene  his  wife  and 
his  sayde  sister  and  al  the  court  came  to  Doner  and  there 
taryed,  for  the  wynde  was  troblous  and  the  wether  fowle, 
in  so  muche  that  shippe  of  the  kynges  called  the  Libeck 
of  IXC.  tonne  was  dryuen  a  shore  before  Sangate  and 
there  brase  &  of  VI  C.  men  scantely  escaped  iiiC  and 
yet  the  most  part  of  them  were  hurt  with  the  wrecke. 
When  the  wether  was  fayre,  then  al  her  wardrobe,  stable, 
and  riches  was  shipped,  and  such  as  were  appoyncted  to 
geue  their  attendaunce  on  her  as  the  duke  of  Norfolke,  the 
Marques  of  Dorset,  the  Bysshop  of  Durham,  the  Earle  of 
Surrey,  the  lorde  Delawar,  sir  Thomas  Bulleyn  and  many 
other  knights,  Squyers,  getlemen  &  ladies,  al  these  went 
to  shippe  and  the  sayde  ladye  toke  her  leaue  of  the  quene 
in  the  castell  of  Douer,  and  the  king  brought  her  to  the 
sea  syde,  and  kissed  her,  and  bctoke  her  to  GOD  and  the 
fortune  of  the  see  and  to  the  gouernaunce  of  the  French 
king  her  husband.  Thus  at  the  hower  of  foure  of  the  clock 
in  the  morenynge  thys  fayre  ladye  toke  her  shippe  with  al 
her  noble  compaignie:  and  when  they  had  sayled  a  quar- 
ter of  the  see,  the  wynde  rose  and  seuered  some  of  the 
shippes  to  Cayles,  and  some  in  Flaunders  and  her  shippe 
with  greate  difficultie  to  Bulleyn,  and  with  greate  ieop- 

(320) 


Dot£/n  into  France  321 

ardy  at  the  entrying  of  the  hauen,  for  the  master  ran  the 
shippe  hard  on  shore,  but  the  botes  were  redy  and 
receyued  this  noble  ladye,  and  at  the  landyng  Sir  Chris- 
topher Garnysha  stode  in  the  water  and  toke  her  in  his 
armes,  and  so  carved  her  to  land,  where  the  Duke  of 
Vandosme  and  a  Cardynall  with  many  estates  receyued 
her,  and  her  ladies,  and  welcommed  all  the  noble  men 
into  the  countrey,  and  so  the  quene  and  all  her  trayne 
came  to  Bulleyn  and  ther  rested,  and  from  thence  she 
remoued  by  dyuerse  lodgynges  tyll  she  came  all  most 
within  iii  miles  of  Abuyle  besyde  the  forrest  of  Arders, 
and  ther  kynge  Loyes  vppon  a  greate  courser  met  her, 
(which  he  so  longe  desired)  but  she  toke  her  way  righte 
on,  not  stopping  to  conurse.  Then  he  returned  to  Abuyle 
by  a  secret  waye,  &  she  was  with  greate  triumphe,  pro- 
cession &  pagiantes  receyued  into  the  toune  of  Abuyle 
the  VIII  day  of  October  by  the  Dolphin,  which  receyued 
her  with  greate  honor.  She  was  appcareilled  in  cloth  of 
siluer,  her  horse  was  trapped  in  goldsmythes  work  very 
rj'chly.  After  her  followed  xxxvi  ladies  al  ther  palfreys 
trapped  with  crymsyn  veluct,  embraudered:  after  the 
folowed  one  charyott  of  cloth  of  tyssue,  the  scconde 
clothe  of  golde  and  the  third  Crymsyn  veluet  embraudered 
with  the  kynges  armes  &  hers,  full  of  roses.  After  them 
folowed  a  greate  nomber  of  archers  and  then  wagons 
laden  with  their  stuf.  Create  was  the  riches  in  plate,  iuels, 
money,  and  hangynges  that  this  ladye  brought  into  France. 
The  Moday  beyng  the  daye  of  Sayncte  Denyce,  the  same 
kynge  Leyes  maried  the  lady  Mary  in  the  greate  church 
of  Abuyle,  bothe  appareled  in  goldesmythes  woorke. 
After  the  masse  was  done  ther  was  a  greate  banket  and 
fest  and  the  ladyes  of  England  highly  entreteyned. 

The  Tewesdaye  beyng  the  x  daye  of  October  all  the 
Englishmen  except  a  fewe  that  wer  oflicers  with  the  sayde 
quene  were  discharged  whiche  was  a  greate  sorowe  for 
theim,  for  some  had  serued  her  longe  in  the  hope  of 
preferment  and  some  that  bad  honest  romes  left  them  to 
serue  her  and  now  they  wcr  out  c{  jeruice,  which  caused 
the  to  take  thought  in  so  much,  some  dyed  by  way  return- 

a 


322  XOhen  Kjni^hihood  Wa^  in  Flotver 

ing,  and  some  fell  mad,  but  ther  was  no  remedy.  After 
the  English  lordes  had  done  ther  commission  the  French 
kynge  wylled  the  to  take  no  lenger  payne  &  so  gaue  to 
theim  good  rewardes  and  they  toke  ther  leaue  of  the  quene 
and  returned. 

Then  the  Dolphyn  of  Fraunce  called  Frauncys  duke  of 
Valoys,  or  Fraunceys  d'Angouleme,  caused  a  solempne 
iustes  to  be  proclaymed,  which  shoulde  be  kept  in  Parys 
in  the  moneth  of  Noueber  next  ensuyng,  and  whlTe  al 
these  thinges  were  prepearyng,  the  Ladye  Mary,  the  V. 
daye  of  Noueber,  then  beying  Sondaye  was  with  greate 
solempnitee  crowned  Queen  of  Fraunce  in  the  monasterye 
of  Saynct  Denyce,  and  the  Lorde  Dolphyn,  who  was 
young,  but  very  toward,  al  the  season  held  the  crowune 
ouer  her  hed,  because  it  was  of  greate  waight,  to  her 
greuaunce. 

Madame  Mary  took  her  time,  since  a  more  delib- 
erate journey  bride  never  made  to  waiting  bride- 
groom. She  was  a  study  during  this  whole  period 
— weeping  and  angry  by  turns.  She,  who  had  never 
known  a  moment's  illness  in  all  her  days,  took  to  her 
bed  upon  two  occasions  from  sheer  antipathetic 
nervousness,  and  would  rest  her  head  upon  Jane's 
breast  and  cry  out  little,  half -articulate  prayers  to 
God  that  she  might  not  kill  the  man  who  was  her 
husband,  when  they  should  meet. 

When  we  met  the  king  about  a  league  this  side  of 
Abbeville,  and  when  Mary  beheld  him  with  the 
shadow  of  death  upon  his  brow,  she  took  hope, 
for  she  knew  he  would  be  but  putty  in  her  hands, 
so  manifestly  weak  was  he,  mentally  and  physic- 
ally. As  he  came  up  she  whipped  her  horse  and 
rode  by  him  at  a  gallop,  sending  me  back  with  word 


2>cU'n  into  France  323 

that  he  must  not  be  so  ardent ;  that  he  frightened 
her,  poor,  timid  little  thing,  so  afraid  of — nothing 
in  the  world.  This  shocked  the  French  courtiers, 
and  one  would  think  would  have  offended  Louis,  but 
he  simply  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  showing  his 
yellow  fangs,  and  said  w-himperingly :  "Oh,  the 
game  is  worth  the  trouble.  Tell  her  majesty  I  wait 
at  Abbeville." 

The  old  king  had  ridden  a  horse  to  meet  his  bride 
in  order  that  he  might  appear  more  gallant  before 
Tier,  but  a  litter  was  waiting  to  take  him  back  to 
Abbeville  by  a  shorter  route,  and  they  were  married 
again  in  person. 

[Again  a  quotation  from  Hall  is  substituted]  : 

Mondaye  the  .vi  daye  of  Noueber,  ther  the  sayde  quene 
was  receyued  into  the  cytee  of  Parys  after  the  order  thar 
foloweth.  First  the  garde  of  the  cytee  met  her  with  oute 
Sayncte  Denyce  al  in  coates  of  goldsmythes  woorke  with 
shippes  gylt,  and  after  them  mett  her  al  the  prestes  and 
religious  whiche  were  estemed  to  be  .iiiM.  The  quene 
was  in  a  chyre  coured  about  (but  not  her  ouer  person) 
in  white  clothe  of  golde,  the  horses  that  drewe  it  couered 
in  clothe  of  golde,  on  her  hed  a  coronal!,  al  of  greate 
perles,  her  neckc  and  brest  full  of  luels.  before  her  wente 
a  garde  of  Almaynes  after  ther  fascion,  and  after  them 
al  noblemen,  as  the  Dolphyn,  the  Duke  of  Burbon,  Cardy- 
nalles,  and  a  greate  nomber  of  estates.  Aboute  her  person 
rode  the  kynge's  garde  the  whiche  wer  Scottes.  On  the 
morowe  bega  the  iustes,  and  the  quene  stode  so  that  al 
men  might  see  her,  and  wonder  at  her  beautie,  and  the 
kynge  was  feble  and  lay  on  a  couche  for  weakenes. 

So  Mary  was  twice  married  to  Louis,  and,  al- 


324  t&^hen  K.ni^hthocd  Wa^  in  FloWO 

though  she  was  his  queen  fast  and  sure  enough,  she 
was  not  his  wife. 

You  may  say  what  you  will,  but  I  like  a  fighting 
woman ;  one  with  a  touch  of  the  savage  in  her  when 
the  occasion  arises;  one  who  can  fight  for  what 
she  loves  as  well  as  against  what  she  hates.  She 
usually  loves  as  she  fights — with  all  her  heart. 

So  Mary  was  crowned,  and  was  now  a  queen, 
hedged  about  by  the  tinseled  divinity  that  hedgeth 
royalty. 

It  seemed  that  she  was  climbing  higher  and  higher 
all  the  time  from  Brandon,  but  in  her  heart  every 
day  she  was  brought  nearer  to  him. 

There  was  one  thing  that  troubled  her  greatly,  and 
all  the  time.  Henry  had  given  his  word  that  Bran- 
don should  be  liberated  as  soon  as  Mary  had  left  the 
shores  of  England,  but  we  had  heard  nothing  of 
this  matter,  although  we  had  received  several  let- 
ters from  home.  A  doubt  of  her  brother,  in  whom 
she  had  little  faith  at  best,  made  an  ache  at  her 
heart,  which  seemed  at  times  likely  to  break  it — so 
she  said.  One  night  she  dreamed  that  she  had 
witnessed  Brandon's  execution,  her  brother  standing 
by  in  excellent  humor  at  the  prank  he  was  playing 
her,  and  it  so  worked  upon  her  waking  hours  that 
by  evening  she  was  ill.  At  last  I  received  a  letter 
from  Brandon — which  had  been  delayed  along  the 
road — containing  one  for  Mary.  It  told  of  his  full 
pardon  and  restoration  to  favor,  greater  even  than 
before ;   and  her  joy  was  so  sweet  and  quiet,  and 


Dottm  into  France  3^5 

fct  so  softly  delirious,  that  I  tell  you  plainly  it 
brought  tears  to  my  eyes  ami  I  could  not  hold 
ihem  back. 

The  marriage,  when  once  determined  upon,  had 
not  cast  her  down  nearly  so  deep  as  I  had  expected, 
and  soon  she  grew  to  be  quite  cheerful  and  happy 
This  filled  me  with  regret,  for  I  thought  of  how 
Brandon  must  suffer,  and  felt  that  her  heart  was 
a  poor,  flimsy  thing  to  take  this  trouble  so  lightly. 

I  spoke  to  Jane  about  it,  but  she  only  laughed. 
**Mar}'  is  all  right,"  said  she ;  "do  not  fear.  Matters 
will  turn  out  better  than  you  think,  perhaps.  You 
know  she  generally  manages  to  have  her  own  way 
in  the  end." 

"If  you  have  any  comfort  to  give,  please  give  it, 
Jane.  I  feel  most  keenly  for  Brandon,  heart-tied  to 
such  a  wilful,  changeable  creature  as  Mary." 

"Sir  Edwin  Caskoden,  you  need  not  take  the 
trouble  to  speak  to  me  at  all  unless  you  can  use 
language  more  respectful  concerning  my  mistress. 
The  queen  knows  what  she  is  about,  but  it  appears 
that  you  cannot  see  it.  I  see  it  plainly  enough, 
although  no  word  has  ever  been  spoken  to  me  on 
the  subject.  As  to  Brandon  being  tied  to  her,  it 
seems  to  me  she  is  tied  to  him,  and  that  he  holds  the 
reins.  He  could  drive  her  into  the  mouth  of  purga- 
tory.** 

"Do  you  think  so?* 

*I  know  it" 


326   Xi}hen  K.nighthood  Wg^  in  FloWet 

I  remained  in  thought  a  moment  or  two,  and  con- 
cluded that  she  was  right.  In  truth,  the  time  had 
come  to  me  when  I  believed  that  Jane,  with  her  good 
sense  and  acute  discernment,  could  not  be  wrong 
in  anything,  and  I  think  so  yet.  So  I  took  comfort 
on  faith  from  her,  and  asked :  "Do  you  remember 
what  you  said  should  happen  before  we  return  to 
England?" 

Jane  hung  her  head.    "I  remember." 

"Well?" 

She  then  put  her  hand  in  mine  and  murmured, 
"I  am  ready  any  time  you  wish." 

Great  heaven !  I  thought  I  should  go  out  of 
my  senses.  She  should  have  told  me  gradually. 
I  had  to  do  something  to  express  my  exultation,  so  I 
walked  over  to  a  bronze  statue  of  Bacchus,  about  my 
size — that  is,  height — put  my  hat — which  I  had  been 
carrying  under  my  arm — on  his  head,  cut  a  few 
capers  in  an  entirely  new  and  equally  antic  step, 
and  then  drew  back  and  knocked  that  Bacchus 
down.  Jane  thought  I  had  gone  stark  mad,  and  her 
eyes  grew  big  with  wonder,  but  I  walked  proudly 
back  to  her  after  my  victory  over  Bacchus,  and 
reassured  her — with  a  few  of  Mary's  messages  that 
I  had  still  left  over,  if  the  truth  must  be  told.  Then 
we  made  arrangements  that  resulted  in  our  mar- 
riage next  morning. 

Accordingly,  Queen  Mary  and  one  or  two  others 
went  with  us  down  to  a  little  church,  where,  as 
fortune  would  have   it,  there  was  a  little  priest^ 


Dctiffi  into  Krance  3^7 

ready  to  join  together  in  the  holy  bonds  of  wed- 
lock little  Jane  and  little  me.  Everything  so  appro- 
priate, you  see ;  I  suppose  in  the  whole  world  we 
couldn't  have  found  another  set  of  conditions  so 
harmonious.  Mary  laughed  and  cried,  and  laughed 
again,  and  clapped  her  hands  over  and  over,  and 
said  it  was  "like  a  play  wedding";  and,  as  she  kissed 
Jane,  quietly  slipped  over  her  head  a  beautiful 
diamond  necklace  that  was  worth  full  ten  thou- 
sand pounds — aside,  that  is,  from  the  millions  of 
actual  value,  because  it  came  from  Mary.  "A  play 
wedding"  it  was;  and  a  play  life  it  has  been  ever 
since. 

We  were  barelv  settled  at  court  in  Paris  when 
Mary  began  to  put  her  plans  in  motion  and  unsettle 
things  generally.  I  could  not  but  recall  Henry's 
sympathy  toward  Louis,  for  the  young  queen  soon 
took  it  upon  herself  to  make  life  a  burden  to  the 
Father  of  his  People ;  and,  in  that  particular  line, 
I  suppose  she  had  no  equal  in  all  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Christendom. 

I  heartily  detested  King  Louis,  largely,  I  think,  be- 
cause of  prejudice  absorbed  from  Mary,  but  he  was, 
in  fact,  a  fairly  good  old  man,  and  at  times  I  could 
%.it  pity  him.  He  was  always  soft  in  heart  and 
softer  in  head,  especially  where  women  were  con- 
cerned. Take  his  crazy  attempt  to  seize  the  Count- 
ess of  Croy  while  he  was  yet  Duke  of  Orleans ;  and 
his  infatuation  for  the  Italian  woman,  for  whom 
he  built  the  elaborate  burial  vault — much  it  must 


328   ISe^hen  Kjiighihood  Wa^  in  Floioer 

have  comforted  her.  Then  his  marriage  to  dicta- 
torial Httle  Anne  of  Brittany,  for  whom  he  had  in- 
duced Pope  Alexander  to  divorce  him  from  the  poor 
little  crippled  owlet,  Joan.  In  consideration  of  this 
divorce  he  had  put  Csesar  Borgia,  Pope  Alexander's 
son,  on  his  feet,  financially  and  politically.  I  think 
he  must  have  wanted  the  owlet  back  again  before 
he  was  done  with  Anne,  because  Anne  was  a  terma- 
gant— and  ruled  him  with  the  heaviest  rod  of  iron 
she  could  lift.  But  this  last  passion — the  flickering, 
sputtering  flame  of  his  dotage — was  the  worst  of 
all,  both  subjectively  and  objectively;  both  as  to 
his  senile  fondness  for  the  English  princess  and  her 
impish  tormenting  of  him.  From  the  first  he  evinced 
the  most  violent  delight  in  Mary,  who  repaid  it  by 
holding  him  off  and  evading  him  in  a  manner  so 
cool,  audacious  and  adroit  that  it  stamped  her  queen 
of  all  the  arts  feminine  and  demoniac.  Pardon  me, 
ladies,  if  I  couple  these  two  arts,  but  you  must  admit 
they  are  at  times  somewhat  akin.  Soon  she  eluded 
him  so  completely  that  for  days  he  would  not  have 
a  glimpse  of  her,  while  she  was  perhaps  riding, 
walking  or  coquetting  with  some  of  the  court  gal- 
,  lants,  who  aided  and  abetted  her  in  every  way  they 
could.  He  became  almost  frantic  in  pursuit  of 
his  elusive  bride,  and  would  expostulate  with  her, 
\vhen  he  could  catch  her,  and  smile  uneasily,  like  a 
man  who  is  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke  of  which 
he  does  not  see,  or  enjoy,  the  point.  On  such  occa- 
sions  she    would   laugh    in    his    face,    then   grow 


T)otifn  into  France  329 

angry — which  was  so  easy  for  her  to  do — and,  I 
grieve  to  say,  would  sometimes  almost  swear  at 
him  in  a  manner  to  make  the  pious,  though  oft- 
times  lax-virtued,  court  ladies  shudder  with  hor- 
ror. She  would  at  other  times  make  sport  of  his 
youthful  ardor,  and  tell  him  in  all  seriousness  that 
it  was  indecorous  for  him  to  behave  so  and  frighten 
her,  a  poor,  timid  little  child,  with  his  impetuosities. 
Then  she  would  manage  to  give  him  the  slip ;  and 
he  would  go  off  and  play  a  game  of  cards  with  him- 
self, firmly  convinced  in  his  own  feeble  way  that 
woman's  nature  had  a  tincture  of  the  devil  in  it.  He 
was  the  soul  of  conciliatory  kindness  to  the  young 
vixen,  but  at  times  she  would  break  violently  into 
tears,  accuse  him  of  cruelly  mistreating  her,  a  help- 
less woman  and  a  stranger  in  his  court,  and  threaten 
to  go  home  to  dear  old  England  and  tell  her  brother, 
King  Henry,  all  about  it,  and  have  him  put  things  to 
right  and  redress  her  wrongs  generally.  In  fact,  she 
acted  the  part  of  injured  innocence  so  perfectly  that 
the  poor  old  man  would  apologize  for  the  wrongs  she 
invented,  and  try  to  coax  her  into  a  good  humor. 
Thereupon  she  would  weep  more  bitterly  than  ever, 
grow  hysterical,  and  require  to  be  carried  off  by 
her  women,  when  recovery  and  composure  were 
usually  instantaneous.  Of  course  the  court  gossips 
soon  carried  stories  of  the  quick  recoveries  to  the 
king,  and,  when  he  spoke  to  Mary  of  them,  she  put 
on  her  injured  air  again  and  turned  the  tablet 
by  upbraiding  him   for  believing    such    calumnica 


330  XOhen  Kjnighihood  Was  in  Ftobtfer 

about  her,  who  was  so  good  to  him  and  loved  him  so 
dearly. 

I  tell  you  it  is  a  waste  of  time  to  fight  against 
that  assumption  of  injured  innocence — that  impreg- 
nable feminine  redoubt — and  when  the  enemy  once 
gets  fairly  behind  it  one  might  as  well  raise  the 
siege.  I  think  it  the  most  amusing,  exasperating 
and  successful  defense  and  counter  attack  in  the 
whole  science  of  war,  and  every  woman  has  it  ai 
her  finger-tips,  ready  for  immediate  use  upon  occa- 
sion. 

Mary  would  often  pout  for  days  together  and  pre- 
tend illness.  Upon  one  occasion  she  kept  the  king 
waiting  at  her  door  all  the  morning,  while  she,  hav- 
ing slipped  through  the  window,  was  riding  with 
sotne  of  the  young  people  in  the  forest.  When  she 
returned — through  the  window — she  went  to  the 
door  and  scolded  the  poor  old  king  for  keeping  her 
waiting  penned  up  in  her  room  all  the  morning. 
And  he  apologized. 

She  changed  the  dinner  hour  to  noon  in  accord- 
ance with  the  English  custom,  and  had  a  heavy  sup- 
per at  night,  when  she  would  make  the  king  gorge 
himself  with  unhealthful  food  and  coax  him  "to 
drink  as  much  as  brother  Henry,"  which  invariably 
resulted  in  Louis  de  Valois  finding  lodgment  under 
the  table.  This  amused  the  whole  court,  except  a 
few  old  cronies  and  physicians,  who,  of  course,  were 
scandalized  beyond  measure.  She  took  the  king 
on  long  rides  with  her  on  cold  days,  and  would 


Dcttffi  into  France  33^ 

jolt  him  almost  to  death,  and  freeze  him  until  the 
cold  tears  streamed  down  his  poor  pinched  nose, 
making  him  feel  like  a  half  animated  icicle,  and  wish 
that  he  were  one  in  fact. 

At  night  she  would  have  her  balls,  and  keep  him 
up  till  morning  drinking  and  dancing,  or  trying  to 
dance,  with  her,  until  his  poor  old  heels,  and  his 
head,  too,  for  that  matter,  were  like  to  fall  off ;  then 
she  would  slip  away  from  him  and  lock  herself  in 
her  room.  December,  say  I,  let  May  alone;  she 
certainly  will  kill  you.  Despite  winch  sound  advice, 
I  doubt  not  December  will  go  on  coveting  May  up 
to  the  end  of  the  chapter;  each  old  fellow — being 
such  a  fine  man  for  his  age,  you  understand — 
fondly  believing  himself  an  exception.  Age  in  a 
fool  is  damnable. 

Mary  was  killing  Louis  as  certainly  and  deliber- 
ately as  if  she  were  feeding  him  slow  poison.  He 
was  very  weak  and  decrepit  at  best,  being  compelled 
frequently,  upon  public  occasions,  such,  for  example, 
as  the  coronation  tournament  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  to  lie  upon  a  couch. 

Mary's  conduct  was  really  cruel!  but  then,  re- 
member her  provocation  and  that  she  was  acting 
in  self-defense.  All  this  was  easier  for  her  than 
you  might  suppose,  for  the  king's  grasp  of  power, 
never  very  strong,  was  beginning  to  relax  even 
what  little  grip  it  had.  All  faces  were  turned  to- 
ward the  rising  sun,  young  Francis,  duke  of  Angou- 
leme,  the  king's  distant  cousin,  who  would  soon  be 


332   tOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flotver 

king  in  Louis's  place.  As  this  young  rising  sun, 
himself  vastly  smitten  with  Mary,  openly  encour- 
aged her  in  what  she  did,  the  courtiers  of  course  fol- 
lowed suit,  and  the  old  king  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  a  court  only  too  ready  to  be  amused  by 
his  lively  young  queen  at  his  expense. 

This  condition  of  affairs  Mary  welcomed  with  her 
whole  soul,  and  to  accent  it  and  nail  assurance,!  fear, 
played  ever  so  lightly  and  coyly  upon  the  heart- 
strings of  the  young  duke,  which  responded  all  too 
loudly  to  her  velvet  touch,  and  almost  frightened  her 
to  death  with  their  volume  of  sound  later  on.  This 
Francis  d'Angouleme,  the  dauphin,  had  fallen  des- 
perately in  love  with  Mary  at  first  sight,  something 
against  which  the  fact  that  he  was  married  to 
Claude,  daughter  of  Louis,  in  no  way  militated.  He 
was  a  very  dist&nt  relative  of  Louis,  going  away 
back  to  St.  Louis  for  his  heirship  to  the  French 
crown.  The  king  had  daughters  in  plenty,  \)ut  as 
you  know,  the  gallant  Frenchmen  say,  according  to 
their  Law  Salic :  "The  realm  of  France  is  so  great 
and  glorious  a  heritage  that  it  may  not  be  taken 
by  a  woman."  Too  great  and  glorious  to  be  taken 
by  a  woman,  forsooth!  France  would  have  been 
vastly  better  off  had  she  been  governed  by  a  woman 
now  and  then,  for  a  country  always  prospers  under 
a  queen. 

Francis  had  for  many  years  lived  at  court  as  the 
recognized  heir,  and  as  the  custom  was,  called  his 
distant  cousin  Louis,  "Uncle."     "Uncle"  Louis  la 


2>ofce;n  info  Krance  333 

turn  called  Francis  "Cc  Gros  Carbon,"  and  Queen 
Mary  called  him  "Monsieur,  mon  bean  His,"  in  a 
mock-motherly  manner  that  was  very  laughable.  A 
mother  of  eighteen  to  a  "good  boy"  of  twenty-two! 
Dangerous  relationship!  And  dangerous,  indeed,  it 
would  have  been  for  Mary,  had  she  not  been  as 
pure  and  true  as  she  was  wilful  and  impetuous. 
**Mon  beau  fils"  allowed  neither  his  wife  nor  the 
respect  he  owed  the  king  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
very  marked  attention  to  the  queen.  His  position  as 
heir,  and  his  long  residence  at  court,  almost  as  son 
to  Louis,  gave  him  ample  opportunities  for  pressing 
his  unseemly  suit.  He  was  the  first  to  see  Mary  at 
the  meeting  place  this  side  of  Abbeville,  and  was  the 
king's  representative  on  all  occasions. 

"Beau  fils"  was  rather  a  handsome  fellow,  but 
thought  himself  vastly  handsomer  than  he  was ;  and 
had  some  talents,  which  he  was  likewise  careful  to 
estimate  at  their  full  value,  to  say  the  least.  He  was 
very  well  liked  by  women,  and  in  turn  considered 
himself  irresistible.  He  was  very  impressionable  to 
feminine  charms,  was  at  heart  a  libertine,  and,  as 
he  grew  older,  became  a  debauchee  whose  memory 
will  taint  France  for  centuries  to  come. 

Mary  saw  his  weakness  more  clearly  than  his 
wickedness,  being  blinded  to  the  latter  by  the  veil 
of  her  own  innocence.  She  laughed  at,  and  with 
him,  and  permitted  herself  a  great  deal  of  his  com- 
pany ;  so  much,  in  fact,  that  I  grew  a  little  jealous 
for  Brandon's  sake,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told. 


334   te^hen  Kjiighthood  Wcw  in  Flotaer 

for  the  first  time  began  to  have  doubts  of  her.  I 
seriously  feared  that  when  Louis  should  die,  Bran- 
don might  find  a  much  more  dangerous  rival  in  the 
new  king,  who,  although  married,  would  probably 
try  to  keep  Mary  at  his  court,  even  should  he  be 
driven  to  the  extreme  of  divorcing  Claude,  as 
Claude's  father  had  divorced  Joan. 

I  believed,  in  case  Mary  should  voluntarily  prove 
false  and  remain  in  France,  either  as  the  wife  or  the 
mistress  of  Francis,  that  Brandon  would  quietly  but 
surely  contrive  some  means  to  take  her  life,  and  I 
hoped  he  would.  I  spoke  to  my  wife,  Jane,  about 
the  queen's  conduct,  and  she  finally  admitted  that 
she  did  not  like  it;  so  I,  unable  to  remain  silent  any 
longer,  determined  to  put  Mary  on  her  guard,  and 
for  that  purpose  spoke  very  freely  to  her  on  the 
subject. 

"Oh!  you  goose!"  she  said,  laughingly.  "He  is 
almost  as  great  a  fool  as  Henry."  Then  the  tears 
came  to  her  eyes,  and  half  angrily,  half  hysterically, 
shaking  me  by  the  arm,  she  continued :  "Do  you 
not  know  ?  Can  you  not  see  that  I  would  give  this 
hand,  or  my  eyes,  almost  my  life,  just  to  fall  upon 
my  face  in  front  of  Charles  Brandon  at  this  mo- 
ment? Do  you  not  know  that  a  woman  with  a  love 
in  her  heart  such  as  I  have  for  him  is  safe  from 
every  one  and  everything?  That  it  is  her  sheet 
anchor,  sure  and  fast  ?  Have  you  not  wit  enough  to 
know  that?" 

"Yes,  I  have,"  I  responded,  for  the  time  com- 


Oobun  into  France  335 

pletely  silenced.  With  her  favorite  tactics,  she  had, 
as  usual,  put  me  in  the  wrong,  though  I  soon  came 
again  to  the  attack. 

"But  he  is  so  base  that  I  grieve  to  see  you  with 
him." 

"I  suppose  he  is  not  very  good,"  she  responded, 
"but  it  seems  to  be  the  way  of  these  people  among 
«s-hom  I  have  fallen,  and  he  cannot  harm  me." 

''Oh !  but  he  can.  One  does  not  go  near  small- 
pox, and  there  is  a  moral  contagion  quite  as  dan- 
gerous, if  not  so  perceptible,  and  equally  to  be 
avoided.  It  must  be  a  w'ondcrfully  healthy  moral 
nature,  pure  and  chaste  to  the  core,  that  will  be 
entirely  contagion-proof  and  safe  from  it." 

She  hung  her  head  in  thought,  and  then  lifted 
her  eyes  appealingly  to  me.  "Am  I  not  that,  Edwin? 
Tell  me !  Tell  me  frankly ;  am  I  not  ?  It  is  the  one 
thing  of  good  I  have  always  striven  for.  I  am  so 
full  of  other  faults  that  if  I  have  not  that  there  is 
no  good  in  me."  Her  eyes  and  voice  were  full  of 
tears,  and  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  I  stood  before 
as  pure  a  soul  as  ever  came  from  the  hand  of  God. 

"You  are,  your  majesty ;  never  doubt,"  I 
answered.  "It  is  pre-eminently  the  one  thing  in 
womanhood  to  which  all  mankind  kneels."  And  I 
fell  upon  my  knee  and  kissed  her  hand  with  a  sense 
of  reverence,  faith  and  trust  that  has  never  left  me 
from  that  day  to  this.  As  to  my  estimate  of  how 
Francis  would  act  when  Louis  should  die,  you  will 
sec  that  I  was  right. 


33^  "When  Ksitgkthood  Waj-  th  Ffotver 

Not  long  after  this  Lady  Caskoden  and  I  were 
given  permission  to  return  to  England,  and  imme- 
diately prepared  for  our  homeward  journey. 

Ah !  it  was  pretty  to  see  Jane  bustling  about, 
making  ready  for  our  departure — superintending 
the  packing  of  our  boxes  and  also  superintending 
me.  That  was  her  great  task.  I  never  was  so  thank- 
ful for  riches  as  when  they  enabled  me  to  allow  Jane 
full  sway  among  the  Paris  shops.  But  at  last,  all 
the  fine  things  being  packed,  and  Mary  having 
kissed  us  both — mind  you,  both — we  got  our  little 
retinue  together  and  out  we  went,  through  St. 
Denis,  then  ho !   for  dear  old  England. 

As  we  left,  Mary  placed  in  my  hands  a  letter  for 
Brandon,  whose  bulk  was  so  reassuring  that  I  knew 
he  had  never  been  out  of  her  thoughts.  I  looked  at 
the  letter  a  moment  and  said,  in  all  seriousness: 
"Your  majesty,  had  I  not  better  provide  an  extra 
box  for  it?" 

She  gave  a  nervous  little  laugh,  and  the  tears 
filled  her  eyes,  as  she  whispered  huskily:  "I  fancy 
there  is  one  who  will  not  think  it  too  large.  Good- 
bye !  good-bye !"  So  we  left  Mary,  I'^ir,  sweet  girl- 
queen,  all  alone  among  those  terrible  strangers ; 
alone  with  one  little  English  maiden,  seven  years  of 
age — Anne  Boleyn. 


CHATTE'R    XXI 

Letters  J^rofn  a  Queen 

UPON  our  return  to  England  I  left  Jane  down 
in  Suffolk  with  her  uncle,  Lord  Bolingbroke, 
having  determined  never  to  permit  her  to  come 
within  sight  of  King  Henry  again,  if  I  could  pre- 
vent it.  I  then  went  up  to  London  with  the  twofold 
purpose  of  seeing  Brandon  and  resigning  my  place 
as  Master  of  the  Dance. 

When  I  presented  myself  to  the  king  and  told 
him  of  my  marriage,  he  flew  into  a  great  passion 
because  we  had  not  asked  his  consent.  One  of  his 
whims  was  that  everyone  must  ask  his  permission 
to  do  anything ;  to  eat,  or  sleep,  or  say  one's  prayers ; 
especially  to  marry,  if  the  lady  was  of  a  degree  en- 
titled to  be  a  king's  ward.  Jane,  fortunately,  had  no 
estate,  the  king's  father  having  stolen  it  from  her 
when  she  was  an  infant;  so  all  the  king  could  do 
about  our  marriage  was  to  grumble,  which  I  let  him 
do  to  his  heart's  content. 

"I  wish  also  to  thank  your  majesty  for  the  thou- 
sand kindnesses  you  have  shown  me,"  I  said,  "and, 
although  it  grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  separate  from 
you,  circumstances  compel  me  to  tender  my  resig- 
nation as  your  Master  of  Dance."  Upon  this  he  was 
kind  enough  to  express  regret,  and  ask  me  to  re- 
consider; but  I  stood  my  ground  firmly,  and  then 

22  {3i7) 


Z3^  tS2//»cn  Kxiighlhood  Wa>s  in  Floret 

and  there  ended  my  official  relations  with  Henry^ 
Tudor  forever. 

Upon  taking  my  leave  of  the  king  I  sought  Bran- 
don,  whom  I  found  comfortably  ensconced  in  ouf 
old  quarters,  he  preferring  them  to  much  more  pre- 
tentious apartments  offered  him  in  another  part  of 
the  palace.  The  king  had  given  him  some  new 
furnishings  for  them,  and  as  I  was  to  remain  a  few 
days  to  attend  to  some  matters  of  business,  he  in- 
vited me  to  share  his  comfort  with  him,  and  I  gladly 
did  so. 

Those  few  days  with  Brandon  were  my  farewell 
to  individuality.  Thereafter  I  was  to  be  so  myste- 
riously intermingled  with  Jane  that  I  was  only  a  part 
— and  a  small  part  at  that  I  fear — of  two.  I  did  not, 
of  course,  regret  the  change,  since  it  was  the  one 
thing  in  life  I  most  longed  for,  yet  the  period  was 
tinged  with  a  faint  sentiment  of  pathos  at  parting 
from  the  old  life  that  had  been  so  kind  to  me,  and 
which  I  was  leaving  forever.  I  say  I  did  net  regret 
it,  and  though  I  was  leaving  my  old  haunts  and  com- 
panions and  friends  so  dear  to  me,  I  w^as  finding 
them  all  again  in  Jane,  who  was  friend  as  well  as 
wife. 

Mary's  letter  was  in  one  of  my  boxes  which  had 
been  delayed,  and  Jane  was  to  forward  it  to  me  when 
it  should  come.  When  I  told  Brandon  of  it,  I  dwelt 
■with  emphasis  upon  its  bulk,  and  he,  of  course,  was 
delighted,  and  impatient  to  have  it.  I  had  put  the 
letter  in  the  box,  but  there  was  something  else  which 


Letters  J^rom  a  Queen  339 

Mary  had  sent  to  him  that  I  had  carried  with  me. 
It  was  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  pay  the  debt 
against  his  father's  estate,  and  in  addition,  to 
buy  some  large  tracts  of  land  adjoining.  Brandon 
did  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  money,  and  seemed 
glad  that  it  had  come  from  Mary,  she,  doubt- 
less, being  the  only  person  from  whom  he  would 
have  taken  it. 

One  of  Brandon's  sisters  had  married  a  rich  mer- 
chant at  Ipswich,  and  another  was  soon  to  marry 
a  Scotch  gentleman.  The  brother  would  probably 
never  marry,  so  Brandon  would  eventually  have  to 
take  charge  of  the  estates.  In  fact,  he  afterwards 
lived  there  many  years,  and  as  Jane  and  I  had  pur- 
chased a  little  estate  near  by,  which  had  been  gen- 
erously added  to  by  Jane's  uncle,  we  saw  a  great 
deal  of  him.  ^"t  I  am  getting  ahead  of  my  story 
again. 

The  d'Angouleme  complication  troubled  ine 
greatly,  notwithstanding  my  faith  in  Mary,  and  al- 
though I  had  resolved  to  say  nothing  to  Brandon 
about  it,  I  soon  told  him  plainly  what  I  thought  and 
feared. 

He  replied  with  a  low,  contented  little  laugh. 

"Do  not  fear  for  Mary,  I  do  not.  That  young  fol- 
low is  of  different  stuff,  I  know,  from  the  old  king, 
but  I  have  all  faith  in  her  purity  and  ability  to  take 
care  of  herself.  Before  she  left  she  promised  to  be 
true  to  me,  whatever  befell,  and  I  trust  her  entirely. 
I  am  not  so  unhappy  by  any  means  as  one  would 


340  te/hen  Kxttghlhood  Wa^  in  Floteter 

expect.     Am  I?"    And  I  was  compelled  to  admit 
that  he  certainly  was  not. 

So  it  seems  they  had  met,  as  Jane  and  I  suspected, 
but  how  Mary  managed  it  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell ; 
she  beat  the  very  deuce  for  having  her  own  way,  by 
hook  or  by  crook.  Then  came  the  bulky  letter, 
which  Brandon  pounced  upon  and  eagerly  devoured. 
I  leave  out  most  of  the  sentimental  passages,  which, 
like  effervescent  wine,  lose  flavor  quickly.  She  said 
— in  part : 

"To  Master  Brandon: 

"Sir  and  Dear  Friend,  Greeting — After  leLving 
thee,  long  time  had  I  that  mighty  grief  and  dole 
within  my  heart  that  it  was  like  to  break;  for  my 
separation  from  thee  was  so  much  harder  to  bear 
even  than  I  had  taken  thought  of,  and  I  also  doubted 
me  that  I  could  live  in  Paris,  as  I  did  wish.  Sleep 
rested  not  upon  my  weary  eyes,  and  of  a  very  deed 
could  I  neither  eat  nor  drink,  since  food  distasted 
me  like  a  nausea,  and  wine  did  strangle  in  my  throat. 
This  lasted  through  my  journey  hither,  which  1 
did  prolong  upon  many  pretexts,  nearly  two  months, 
but  when  I  did  at  last  rest  mine  eyes  for  the  first 
time  upon  this  King  Louis's  face,  I  well  knew  that 
I  could  rule  him,  and  when  I  did  arrive,  and  had 
adjusted  myself  in  this  Paris,  I  found  it  so  easy 
that  my  heart  leaped  for  very  joy.  Beauty  goeth 
so  far  with  this  inflammable  people  that  easily  do  I 
rule  them  all,  and  truly  doth  a  servile  subject  make 


Letters  ^rom  a  Queen  341 

a  sharp,  capricious  tyrant.  Thereby  tlie  misfortune 
which  hath  come  upon  us  is  of  so  much  less  evil,  and 
is  so  like  to  be  of  such  short  duration,  that  I  am  al- 
most happy — but  for  lack  of  thee — and  sometimes 
think  that  after  all  it  may  verily  be  a  blessing  un- 
seen. 

"This  new,  unexpected  face  upon  our  trouble 
hath  so  driven  the  old  gnawing  ache  out  of  my 
heart  that  I  love  to  be  alone,  and  dream,  open-eyed, 
of  the  time,  of  a  surety  not  far  off,  when  I  shall  be 
with  thee.  ...  It  is  ofttimes  sore  hard  for  me,  who 
have  never  waited,  to  have  to  wait,  like  a  patient 
Griselda,  which  of  a  truth  I  am  not,  for  this  which 
I  do  so  want ;  but  I  try  to  make  myself  content 
with  the  thought  that  full  sure  it  will  not  be  for 
long,  and  that  when  this  tedious  time  hath  spent 
itself,  we  shall  look  back  upon  it  as  a  very  soul- 
school,  and  shall  rather  joy  that  we  did  not  pur- 
chase our  heaven  too  cheaply. 

"I  said  I  find  it  easy  to  live  here  as  I  wish,  and 
did  begin  to  tell  thee  how  it  was,  when  I  ran  off 
into  telling  of  how  I  long  for  thee ;  so  I  will  try 
again.  This  Louis,  to  begin  with,  is  but  the  veriest 
shadow  of  a  man,  of  whom  thou  needst  have  not 
one  jealous  thought.  He  is  on  a  bed  of  sickness 
most  of  the  time,  of  his  own  accord,  and  if,  per- 
chance, he  be  but  fairly  well  a  day  or  so,  I  do 
straightway  make  him  ill  again  in  one  way  or  an- 
other, and,  please  God,  hope  to  wear  him  out  entirely 
ere  long  time.    Of  a  deed,  brother  Henry  was  right ; 


342    XVhen  Kjiighthood  Wa^  in  Flobefer 

better  had  it  been  for  Louis  to  have  married  a 
human  devil  than  me,  for  it  maketh  a  very  one  out 
of  me  if  mine  eyes  but  rest  upon  him,  and  thou 
knowest  full  well  what  kind  of  a  devil  I  make — 
brother  Henry  knoweth,  at  any  rate.  For  all  this 
do  I  grieve,  but  have  no  remedy,  nor  want  one.  I 
sometimes  do  almost  compassionate  the  old  king, 
but  I  cannot  forbear,  for  he  turneth  my  very  blood 
to  biting  gall,  and  must  e'en  take  the  consequences 
of  his  own  folly.  Truly  is  he  wild  for  love  of  me, 
this  poor  old  man,  and  the  more  I  hold  him  at  a  dis- 
tance the  more  he  fondly  dotes,  I  do  verily  believe 
he  would  try  to  stand  upon  his  foolish  old  head,  did 
I  but  insist.  I  sometimes  have  a  thought  to  make 
him  try  it.  He  doeth  enough  that  is  senseless  and 
absurd,  in  all  conscience,  as  it  is.  At  all  of  this  do 
the  courtiers  smile,  and  laugh,  and  put  me  forward 
to  other  pranks ;  that  is,  all  but  a  few  of  the  elders, 
who  shake  their  heads,  but  dare  do  nothing  else  for 
fear  of  the  dauphin,  who  will  soon  be  king,  and 
who  stands  first  in  urging  and  abetting  me.  So  it 
is  easy  for  me  to  do  what  I  wish,  and  above  all  to 
leave  undone  that  which  I  wish  not,  for  I  do  easily 
rule  them  all,  as  good  Sir  Edwin  and  dear  Jane 
will  testify.  I  have  a  ball  every  night,  wherein  I  do 
make  a  deal  of  amusement  for  every  one  by  dancing 
La  Volta  with  his  majesty  until  his  heels,  and  his 
poor  old  head,  too,  are  like  to  fall  off.  Others  im- 
portune me  for  those  dances,  especially  the  daupkin, 
but  I  laugh  and  shake  my  head  and  say  that  I  will 


Letters  J^rom  a  Queen  343 

dance  with  no  one  but  the  king,  because  he  dances 
so  well.  This  pleases  his  majesty  mightily,  and 
maketh  an  opening  for  me  to  avoid  the  touch  of 
other  men,  for  I  am  jealous  of  myself  for  thy  sake, 
and  save  and  garner  every  little  touch  for  thee .... 
Sir  Edwin  will  tell  you  I  dance  with  no  one  else  and 
surely  never  will.  You  remember  well,  I  doubt  not, 
when  thou  first  didst  teach  me  this  new  dance.  Ah ! 
how  delightful  it  was!  and  yet  how  at  first  it  did 
frighten  and  anger  me.  Thou  canst  not  know  how 
my  heart  beat  during  all  the  time  of  that  first  dance. 
I  thought,  of  a  surety,  it  would  burst ;  and  then  the 
wild  thrill  of  frightened  ecstasy  that  made  my  blood 
run  like  fire !  I  knew  it  must  be  wrong,  for  it  was, 
in  truth,  too  sweet  a  thing  to  be  right.  And  then  I 
grew  angry  at  thee  as  the  cause  of  my  wrong-doing 
and  scolded  thee,  and  repented  it,  as  usual.  Truly 
didst  thou  conquer,  not  win  me.  Then  afterwards, 
withal  it  so  frightened  me,  how  I  longed  to  dance 
again,  and  could  in  no  way  stay  myself  from  asking. 
At  times  could  I  hardly  wait  till  evening  fell,  and 
when  upon  occasion  thou  didst  not  come,  I  was  so 
angry  I  said  I  hated  thee.  What  must  thou  have 
thought  of  me,  so  forward  and  bold !  And  that 
afternoon!  Ah!  I  think  of  it  every  hour,  and  see 
and  hear  it  all,  and  live  it  o'er  and  o'er,  as  it  sweeter 
grows  with  memory's  ripening  touch.  Some  mo- 
ments there  are,  that  send  their  glad  ripple  down 
through  life's  stream  to  the  verge  of  the  grave,  and 
truly  blest  is  one  who  can  smile  upon  and  kiss  these 


344  "CO hen  Kjntghthood  Waj-  in  Floret 

memory  waves,  and  draw  from  thence  a  bliss  that 
never  fails.  But  thou  knowest  full  well  my  heart, 
and  I  need  not  tease  thee  with  its  outpourings. 

"There  is  yet  another  matter  of  which  I  wish  to 
write  in  very  earnestness.  Sir  Edwin  spoke  to  me 
thereof,  and  what  he  said  hath  given  me  serious 
thought.  I  thank  him  for  his  words,  of  which  he 
will  tell  thee  in  full  if  thou  but  importune  him 
thereto.  It  is  this :  the  Dauphin,  Francis  d'A/igou- 
leme,  hath  fallen  desperately  fond  of  me,  and  is 
quite  as  importunate,  and  almost  as  foolish  as  the 
elder  lover.  This  people,  in  this  strange  land  of 
France,  have,  in  sooth,  some  curious  notions.  For 
an  example  thereto :  no  one  thinks  to  find  anything 
unseeming  in  the  dauphin's  conduct,  by  reason  of  his 
having  already  a  wife,  and  more,  that  wife  the  Prin- 
cess Claude,  daughter  to  the  king.  I  laugh  at  him 
and  let  him  say  what  he  will,  for  in  truth  I  am  pow- 
erless to  prevent  it.  Words  cannot  scar  even  a  rose 
leaf,  and  will  not  harm  me.  Then,  by  his  help  and 
example  I  am  justified  in  the  eyes  of  the  court  in 
that  I  so  treat  the  king,  which  otherwise  it  were 
impossible  for  me  to  do  and  live  here.  So,  however 
much  I  may  loathe  them,  yet  I  am  driven  to  tolerate 
his  words,  which  I  turn  off  with  a  laugh,  making 
sure,  thou  mayest  know,  that  it  come  to  nothing 
more  than  words.  And  thus  it  is,  however  much  I 
wish  it  not,  that  I  do  use  him  to  help  me  treat  the 
king  as  I  like,  and  do  then  use  the  poor  old  king 
as  my  buckler  against  this  duke's  too  great  famil- 


Letters  J^r cm  a  Queen  345 

iarity.  But  my  friend,  when  the  king  comes  to  die 
then  shall  I  have  my  fears  of  this  young  Francis 
d'AngouIeme.  He  is  desperate  for  me,  and  I  know 
not  to  what  length  he  might  go.  The  king  cannot 
live  long,  as  the  thread  of  his  life  is  like  rotten  flax, 
and  when  he  dies  thou  must  come  without  delay, 
since  I  shall  be  in  deadly  peril.  I  have  a  messenger 
%vaiting  at  all  hours  ready  to  send  to  thee  upon  a 
moment's  notice,  and  when  he  comes  waste  not  a 
precious  instant ;  it  may  mean  all  to  thee  and  me. 
I  could  write  on  and  on  forever,  but  it  would  be  only 
to  tell  thee  o'er  and  o'er  that  my  heart  is  full  of  thee 
to  overflowing.  I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  never 
doubted  me,  and  will  see  that  thou  hast  hereafter 
only  good  cause  for  better  faith. 

"MARY,  Regina." 

"Regina !"  That  was  all.  Only  a  queen !  Surely 
no  one  could  charge  Brandon  with  possessing  too 
modest  tastes. 

It  was,  I  think,  during  the  second  week  in  De- 
cember that  I  gave  this  letter  to  Brandon,  and  about 
a  fortnight  later  there  came  to  him  a  messenger 
from  Paris,  bringing  another  from  Mary,  as  fol- 
lows : 

"Master  Charles  Brandon: 

"Sir  and  Dear  Friend,  Greeting — I  have  but  time 
to  write  that  the  king  is  so  ill  he  cannot  but  die  ere 
morning.     Thou  knowest  that  which  I  last  wrote 


346   tOhen  Kjiighthood  Wa>s  in  Flotuet 

to  thee,  and  in  addition  thereto  I  would  say  that  al- 
though I  have,  as  thou  likewise  knowest,  my 
brother's  permission  to  marry  whom  I  wish,  yet  as 
I  have  his  one  consent  it  is  safer  that  we  act  upon 
that  rather  than  be  so  scrupulous  as  to  ask  for  an- 
other. So  it  were  better  that  thou  take  me  to  wife 
upon  the  old  one,  rather  than  risk  the  necessity  of 
having  to  do  it  without  any.  I  say  no  more,  but 
come  with  all  the  speed  thou  knowest. 

"MARY." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Brandon  started  in  haste 
for  Paris.  He  left  court  for  the  ostensible  purpose 
of  paying  me  a  visit  and  came  to  Ipswich,  whence 
we  sailed. 

The  French  king  was  dead  before  Mary's  message 
reached  London,  and  when  we  arrived  at  Paris, 
Francis  I  reigned  on  the  throne  of  his  father-in-law. 
I  had  guessed  only  too  accurately.  As  soon  as  the 
restraint  of  the  old  king's  presence,  light  as  it  had 
been,  was  removed,  the  young  king  opened  his  at- 
tack upon  Mary  in  dreadful  earnest.  He  begged 
and  pleaded  and  swore  his  love,  which  was  surely 
manifest  enough,  and  within  three  days  after  the 
old  king's  death  offered  to  divorce  Claude  and  make 
Mary  his  queen.  When  she  refused  this  flattering 
offer  his  surprise  was  genuine. 

"Do  you  know  what  you  refuse?"  he  asked  in  a 
temper.  "I  offer  to  make  you  my  wife — queen  of 
fifteen  millions  of  the  greatest  subjects  on  earth — 


L.etter>s  J^rom  a  Queen  347 

and  are  you  such  a  fool  as  to  refuse  a  g^ft  like  that, 
and  a  man  Hke  me  for  a  husband?" 

"That  I  am,  your  majesty,  and  with  a  good  grace. 
I  am  Queen  of  France  without  your  help,  and  care 
not  so  much  as  one  penny  for  the  honor.  It  is 
greater  to  be  a  princess  of  England.  As  for  this 
love  you  avow,  I  would  make  so  bold  as  to  suggest 
that  you  have  a  good,  true  wife  to  whom  you  would 
do  well  to  give  it  all.  To  me  it  is  nothing,  even 
were  you  a  thousand  times  the  king  you  are.  My 
heart  is  another's,  and  I  have  my  brother's  permis- 
sion to  marry  him." 

"Another's  ?  God's  soul !  Tell  me  who  this  fel- 
low is  that  I  may  spit  him  on  my  sword." 

"No!  no!  you  would  not;  even  were  you  as 
valiant  and  grand  as  you  think  yourself,  you  would 
be  but  a  child  in  his  hands." 

Francis  was  furious,  and  had  Mary's  apartments 
guarded  to  prevent  her  escape,  swearing  he  would 
have  his  way. 

As  soon  as  Brandon  and  I  arrived  in  Paris  we 
took  private  lodgings,  and  well  it  was  that  we  did.  I 
at  once  went  out  to  reconnoiter,  and  found  the  wid- 
owed queen  a  prisoner  in  the  old  palace  des  Tour- 
nelles.  With  the  help  of  Queen  Claude  I  secretly 
obtained  an  interview,  and  learned  the  true  state  of 
affairs. 

Had  Brandon  been  recognized  and  his  mission 
known  in  Paris,  he  would  certainly  have  been  assas- 
sinated by  order  of  Francis. 


348  ^eOhen  Kjnt^hihood  Was  in  Flotver 

When  I  saw  the  whole  situation,  with  Mary  noth- 
ing less  than  a  prisoner  in  the  palace,  I  was  ready 
to  give  up  without  a  struggle,  but  not  so  Mary.  Het 
brain  was  worth  having,  so  fertile  was  it  in  expe- 
dients, and  while  I  was  ready  to  despair,  she  was 
only  getting  herself  in  good  fighting  order. 

After  Mary's  refusal  of  Francis,  and  after  he  had 
learned  that  the  sacrifice  of  Claude  would  not  help 
him,  he  grew  desperate,  and  determined  to  keep  the 
English  girl  in  his  court  at  any  price  and  by  any 
means.  So  he  hit  upon  the  scheme  of  marrying  her 
to  his  weak-minded  cousin,  the  Count  of  Savoy.  To 
that  end  he  sent  a  hurried  embassy  to  Henry  VIII, 
offering,  in  case  of  the  Savoy  marriage,  to  pay  back 
Mary's  dower  of  four  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
He  offered  to  help  Henry  in  the  matter  of  the  im- 
perial crown  in  case  of  Maximilian's  death — a  help 
much  greater  than  any  King  Louis  could  have  given. 
He  also  offered  to  confirm  Henry  in  all  his  French 
possessions,  and  to  relinquish  all  claims  of  his  own 
thereto — all  as  the  price  of  one  eighteen-year-old 
girl.  Do  you  wonder  she  had  an  exalted  estimate 
*of  her  own  value? 

As  to  Henry,  it,  of  course,  need  not  be  said,  that 
half  the  price  offered  would  have  bought  him  to 
break  an  oath  made  upon  the  true  cross  itself.  The 
promise  he  had  made  to  Mary,  broken  in  intent  be- 
fore it  was  given,  stood  not  for  an  instant  in  the  way 
of  the  French  king's  wishes;  and  Henry,  with  a 
promptitude  begotten  of  greed,  was  as  hasty  in  send* 


Lexers  Jrom  a  Queen  349 

ing  an  embassy  to  accept  tlie  offer  as  Francis  had 
been  to  make  it.  It  mattered  not  to  him  what  new 
torture  he  put  upon  his  sister;  tlie  price,  I  believe, 
was  sufficient  to  have  induced  him  to  cut  off  her 
head  with  his  own  hands. 

If  Francis  and  Henry  were  quick  in  their  move- 
ments, Mary  was  quicker.  Her  plan  was  made  in 
the  twinklmg  of  an  eye.  Immediately  upon  seeing 
me  at  the  palace  she  sent  for  Queen  Claude,  with 
whom  she  had  become  fast  friends,  and  told  her  all 
she  knew.  She  did  not  know  of  the  scheme  for  the 
Savoy  marriage,  though  Queen  Claude  did,  and 
fully  explained  it  to  Mary.  Naturally  enough, 
Claude  would  be  glad  to  get  Mary  as  far  away  from 
France  and  her  husband  as  possible,  and  was  only 
too  willing  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  our  purpose, 
or  Mar\''s,  rather,  for  she  was  the  leader. 

We  quickly  agreed  among  ourselves  that  Mary 
and  Queen  Claude  should  within  an  hour  go  out  in 
Claude's  new  coach  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of 
hearing  mass.  Brandon  and  I  were  to  go  to  the 
same  little  chapel  in  which  Jane  and  I  had  been  mar- 
ried, where  Mary  said  the  little  priest  could  admin- 
ister the  sacrament  of  marriage  and  perform  the 
ceremony  as  well  as  if  he  were  thrice  as  large. 

I  hurriedly  found  Brandon  and  repaired  to  the 
little  chapel,  where  we  waited  for  a  very  long  time, 
we  thought.  At  last  the  two  queens  entered  as  if 
to  make  their  devotions.  As  soon  as  Brandon  and 
Mary  caught  sight  of  each  other,  Queen  Claude  and 


ZSO  ^e^hen  Kxiishihood  Wa^  in  Floiefct 

I  began  to  examine  the  shrines  and  decipher  the 
Latin  inscriptions.  If  these  two  had  not  married 
soon  they  would  have  been  the  death  of  me.  I  was 
compelled  at  length  to  remind  them  that  time  was 
very  precious  just  at  that  juncture,  whereupon 
Mary,  who  was  half  laughing,  half  crying,  lifted 
her  hands  to  her  hair  and  let  it  fall  in  all  its  lustrous 
wealth  down  over  her  shoulders.  When  Brandon 
saw  this,  he  fell  upon  his  knee  and  kissed  the  hem 
of  her  gown,  and  she,  stooping  over  him,  raised  him 
to  his  feet  and  placed  her  hand  in  his. 

Thus  Mary  was  married  to  the  man  to  save  whose 
life  she  had  four  months  before  married  the  French 
king. 

She  and  Queen  Claude  had  forgotten  nothing,  and 
all  arrangements  were  completed  for  the  flight.  A 
messenger  had  been  dispatched  two  hours  before 
with  an  order  from  Queen  Claude  that  a  ship  should 
be  waiting  at  Dieppe,  ready  to  sail  immediately  upon 
our  arrival. 

After  the  ceremony  Claude  quickly  bound  up 
Mary's  hair,  and  the  queens  departed  from  the 
chapel  in  their  coach.  We  soon  followed,  meeting 
them  again  at  St.  Denis  gate,  where  we  found  the 
best  of  horses  and  four  sturdy  men  awaiting  us. 
The  messenger  to  Dieppe  who  had  preceded  us 
would  arrange  for  relays,  and  as  Mary,  according 
to  her  wont  when  she  had  another  to  rely  upon,  had 
taken  the  opportunity  to  become  thoroughly  fright- 
ened, no  time  was  lost.  We  made  these  forty  leagues 


Letters  J^rom  a  Queen  351 

in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  from  the  time  of 
starting;  having  paused  only  for  a  short  rest  at  a 
little  town  near  Rouen,  which  city  we  carefully 
passed  around. 

We  had  little  fear  of  being  overtaken  at  the  rate 
we  were  riding,  but  Mary  said  she  supposed  the 
wind  would  die  down  for  a  month  immediately 
upon  our  arrival  at  Dieppe.  Fortunately  no  one 
pursued  us,  thanks  to  Queen  Claude,  who  had 
spread  the  report  that  Mary  was  ill,  and  fortunately, 
also,  much  to  Mary's  surprise  and  delight,  when 
we  arrived  at  Dieppe,  as  fair  a  wind  as  a  sailor's 
heart  could  wish  was  blowing  right  up  the  channel. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  system  of  relays — horses,  ship, 
and  w  ind. 

"When  the  very  wind  blows  for  our  special  use, 
we  may  surely  dismiss  fear,"  said  Mary,  laughing 
and  clapping  her  hands,  but  nearly  ready  for  tears, 
notwithstanding. 

The  ship  was  a  fine  new  one,  well  fitted  to  breast 
any  sea,  and  learning  this,  we  at  once  agreed  that 
upon  landing  in  England,  Mary  and  I  should  go  to 
London  and  win  over  the  king  if  possible.  We  felt 
some  confidence  in  being  able  to  do  this,  as  we 
counted  upon  Wolsey's  help,  but  in  case  of  failure 
we  still  had  our  plans.  Brandon  was  to  take  the 
ship  to  a  certain  island  off  the  Suffolk  coast  and 
there  await  us  the  period  of  a  year  if  need  be,  as 
Mary  might,  in  case  of  Henry's  obstinacy,  be  de- 
tained ;  then  re-victual  and  re-man  the  ship  and  out 


352   XOhen  K,ni^hthood  Wa^  in  Ftoisfer 

through  the  North  Sea  for  their  former  haven,  New 
Spain. 

In  case  of  Henry's  consent,  how  they  were 
to  Hve  in  a  style  fit  for  a  princess,  Brandon  did 
not  know,  unless  Henry  should  open  his  heart 
and  provide  for  them — a  doubtful  contingency 
upon  which  they  did  not  base  much  hope.  At  a 
pinch,  they  might  go  down  into  Suffolk  and  live 
next  to  Jane  and  me  on  Brandon's  estates.  To  this 
Mary  readily  agreed,  and  said  it  was  what  she 
wanted  above  all  else. 

There  was  one  thing  now  in  favor  of  the  king's 
acquiescence:  during  the  last  three  months  Bran- 
don had  become  very  necessary  to  his  amusement, 
and  amusement  was  his  greatest  need  and  aim  in 

life. 

Mary  and  I  went  to  London  to  see  the  king, 

having  landed  at  Southampton  for  the  purpose  of 

throwing  off  the  scent  any  one  who  might  seek  the 

ship.    The  king  was  delighted  to  see  his  sister,  and 

kissed  her  over  and  over  again. 

Mary  had  as  hard  a  game  to  play  as  ever  fell  to 
the  lot  of  woman,  but  she  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency if  any  woman  ever  was.  She  did  not  give 
Henry  the  slightest  hint  that  she  knew  anything  of 
the  Count  of  Savoy  episode,  but  calmly  assumed 
that  of  course  her  brother  had  meant  literally  what 
he  said  when  he  made  the  promise  as  to  the  second 
marriage. 

The  king  soon  asked :    "But  what  are  you  doing 


JLetter^  yrom  a  Queen  353 

here?  They  have  hardly  buried  Louis  as  yet,  have 
they?" 

*"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Mary,  "and 
I  certainly  care  less.  I  married  him  only  during 
his  life,  and  not  for  one  moment  afterwards,  so  I 
came  away  and  left  them  to  bury  him  or  keep  him, 
as  they  choose ;   I  care  not  which." 

"But — "  began  Henry,  when  }^Iary  interruptetl 
him,  saying:  "I  will  tell  you — " 

I  had  taken  good  care  that  Wolsey  should  be 
present  at  this  interview ;  so  we  four,  the  king, 
Wolsey,  Mary  and  myself,  quietly  stepped  into  a 
little  alcove  away  from  the  others,  and  prepared  to 
listen  to  Mary's  tale,  which  was  told  with  all  her 
dramatic  eloquence  and  feminine  persuasiveness. 
She  told  of  the  ignoble  insults  of  Francis,  of  his  vile 
proposals — insisted  upon,  almost  to  the  point  of 
force — carefully  concealing,  however,  the  offer  to 
divorce  Claude  and  make  her  queen,  which  propo- 
sition might  have  had  its  attractions  for  Henry. 
She  told  of  her  imprisonment  in  the  palace  des 
Tournelles,  and  of  her  deadly  peril  and  many  indig- 
nities, and  the  tale  lost  nothing  in  the  telling.  Then 
she  finished  by  throwing  her  arms  around  Henry's 
neck  in  a  passionate  flood  of  tears  and  begging  him 
to  protect  her — to  save  her !  save  her !  save  her !  his 
httle  sister. 

It  was  all  such  perfect  acting  that  for  the  time  I 
forgxDt  it  was  acting,  and  a  great  lump  swelled  up  in 
my  throat.     It  was,  however,  only  for  the  instant, 

23 


1354  "When  Kjnighthood  Wa^  in  Floteter 

and  when  Mary,  whose  face  was  hidden  from  all  the 
others,  on  Henry's  breast,  smiled  slyly  at  me  from 
the  midst  of  her  tears  and  sobs,  I  burst  into  a  laugh 
that  was  like  to  have  spoiled  everything.  Henry 
turned  quickly  upon  me,  and  I  tried  to  cover  it  by 
pretending  that  I  was  sobbing.  Wolsey  helped  me 
out  by  putting  a  corner  of  his  gown  to  his  eyes, 
when  Henry,  seeing  us  all  so  affected,  began  to 
catch  the  fever  and  swell  with  indignation.  He  put 
Mary  away  from  him,  and  striding  up  and  down 
the  room  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  that  all  could  hear, 
"The  dog !  the  dog !  to  treat  my  sister  so.  My  sis- 
ter! My  father's  daughter!  My  sister!  The  first 
princess  of  England  and  queen  of  France  for  his 
mistress!  By  every  god  that  ever  breathed,  I'll 
chastise  this  scurvy  cur  until  he  howls  again.  I 
swear  it  by  my  crown,  if  it  cost  me  my  kingdom," 
and  so  on  until  words  failed  him.  But  see  how  he 
kept  his  oath,  and  see  how  he  and  Francis  hob- 
nobbed not  long  afterward  at  the  Field  of  the  Cloth 
of  Gold. 

Henry  came  back  to  Mary  and  began  to  question 
her,  when  she  repeated  the  story  for  him.  Then  it 
was  she  told  of  my  timely  arrival,  and  how,  in  order 
to  escape  and  protect  herself  from  Francis,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  marry  Brandon  and  flee  with  us. 

She  said :  "I  so  wanted  to  come  home  to  England 
and  be  married  where  my  dear  brother  could  give 
me  away,  but  I  was  in  such  mortal  dread  of  Francjj, 
and  there  was  no  other  means  of  escape,  so — " 


Letters  J^rom  a  Queen  355 

"God's  death !  If  I  had  but  one  other  sister  like 
you,  I  swear  before  heaven  I'd  have  myself  hanged. 
Married  to  Brandon  ?  Fool !  idiot !  what  do  you 
mean?  Married  to  Brandon!  Jesu !  You'll  drive 
me  m.ad !  Just  one  other  like  you  in  England,  and 
the  whole  damned  kingdom  might  sink ;  I'd  have 
none  of  it.  Married  to  Brandon  without  my  con- 
sent !" 

"No !  no !  brother,"  answered  Mary  softly,  lean- 
ing affectionately  against  his  bulky  form ;  "do  you 
suppose  I  would  do  that?  Now  don't  be  unkind  to 
me  when  I  have  been  away  from  you  so  long !  You 
gave  your  consent  four  months  ago.  Do  you  not 
remember?  You  know  I  would  never  have  done  it 
otherwise." 

"Yes,  I  know  !  You  would  not  do  anything — you 
did  not  want ;  and  it  seems  equally  certain  that  in 
the  end  you  always  manage  to  do  everything  you  do 
want.    Hell  and  furies !" 

"Why !  brother,  I  will  leave  it  to  my  Lord  Bishop 
of  York  if  you  did  not  promise  me  that  day,  in  this 
very  room,  and  almost  on  this  very  spot,  that  if  I 
would  marry  Louis  of  France  I  might  marry  whom- 
soever I  wished  when  he  should  die.  Of  cour.se 
you  knew,  after  what  I  had  said,  whom  I  should 
choose,  so  I  went  to  a  little  church  in  com- 
pany with  Queen  Claude,  and  took  my  hair  down 
and  married  him,  and  I  am  his  wife,  and  no 
power  on  earth  can  make  it  otherwise,"  and 
she  looked  up  into  his   face  with  a  defiant  little 


356  te/hen  Kjnighlhood  Was  tn  T^totater 

pout,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Now,  what  are  you  going 
to  do  about  it  ?" 

Henry  looked  at  her  in  surprise  and  then  burst 
out  laughing.  "Married  to  Brandon  with  your  hair 
down?"  And  he  roared  again,  holding  his  sides. 
"Well,  you  do  beat  the  devil ;  there's  no  denying 
that.  Poor  old  Louis !  That  was  a  good  joke  on 
him.  I'll  stake  my  crown  he  was  glad  to  die !  You 
kept  it  warm  enough  for  him,  I  make  no  doubt." 

"Well,"  said  Mary,  with  a  little  shrug  of  her 
shoulders,  "he  would  marry  me." 

"Yes,  and  now  poor  Brandon  doesn't  know  the 
trouble  ahead  of  him,  either.  He  has  my  pity,  by 
Jove!" 

"Oh,  that  is  different,"  returned  Mary,  and  her 
eyes  burned  softly,  and  her  whole  person  fairly 
radiated,  so  expressive  was  she  of  the  fact  that  "it 
was  different." 

Different  ?  Yes,  as  light  from  darkness ;  as  love 
from  loathing ;  as  heaven  from  the  other  place ;  as 
Brandon  from  Louis ;  and  that  tells  it  all. 

Henry  turned  to  Wolscy :  "Have  you  ever  heard 
anything  equal  to  it,  my  Lord  Bishop?" 

My  Lord  Bishop,  of  course,  never  had ;  nothing 
that  even  approached  it. 

"What  are  we  to  do  about  it?"  continued  Henry, 
still  addressing  Wolsey. 

The  bishop  assumed  a  thoughtful  expression,  as 
if  to. appear  deliberate  in  so  great  a  matter,  and 
said :   "I  see  but  one  thing  that  can  be  done,"  and 


L09tt9r^  J^om  a  Queen  357 

then  he  threw  in  a  few  soft,  oily  words  upon  the 
troubled  waters  that  made  Mary  wish  she  had  never 
called  him  "thou  butcher's  cur,"  and  Henry,  after  a 
pause,  asked :  "Where  is  Brandon  ?  He  is  a  good 
fellow,  after  all,  and  what  we  can't  help  we  must 
endure.  He'll  find  punishment  enough  in  you.  Tell 
him  to  come  home — I  suppose  you  have  him  hid 
around  some  place — and  we'll  try  to  do  something 
for  him." 

"What  will  you  do  for  him,  brother?"  said  Mary, 
not  wanting  to  give  the  king's  friendly  impulse  time 
to  weaken. 

"Oh !  don't  bother  about  that  now,"  but  she  held 
him  fast  by  the  hand  and  would  not  let  go. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?  Out  with  it.  I  sup- 
pose I  might  as  well  give  it  up  easily,  you  will  have 
it  sooner  or  later.    Out  with  it  and  be  done." 

''Could  you  make  him  Duke  of  Suffolk  ?" 

"Eh?  I  suppose  so.  What  say  you,  my  Lord  of 
York?" 

York  was  willing — thought  it  would  be  just  the 
thing. 

"So  be  it  then,"  said  Henry.  "Now  I  am  going 
out  to  hunt  and  will  not  listen  to  another  word.  You 
will  coax  me  out  of  my  kingdom  for  that  fellow  yet." 
He  was  about  to  leave  the  room  when  he  turned 
to  Mary,  saying:  "By  the  way,  sister,  can  you 
have  Brandon  here  by  Sunday  next?  I  am  to 
have  a  joust." 


358  XOhen  Knighthood  Wa^  in  Flotsfer 

Mary  thought  she  could,  .  .  .  and  the  great 
event  was  accomplished. 

One  false  word,  one  false  syllable,  one  false  tone 
would  have  spoiled  it  all,  had  not  Mary — but  I  fear 
you  are  weary  with  hearing  so  much  of  Mary. 

So  after  all,  Mary,  though  a  queen,  came  portion- 
less to  Brandon.  He  got  the  title,  but  never  re- 
ceived the  estates  of  Suffolk ;  all  he  received  with 
her  was  the  money  I  carried  to  him  from  France. 
Nevertheless,  Brandon  thought  himself  the  richest 
man  in  all  the  earth,  and  surely  he  was  one  of  the 
happiest.  Such  a  woman  as  Mary  is  dangerous, 
except  in  a  state  of  complete  subjection — but  she 
was  bound  hand  and  foot  in  the  silken  meshes  of  her 
own  weaving,  and  her  power  for  bliss-making  was 
almost  infinite. 

And  now  it  was,  as  all  who  read  may  know,  that 
this  fair,  sweet,  wilful  Mary  dropped  out  of  history ; 
a  sure  token  that  her  heart  was  her  husband's 
throne ;  her  soul  his  empire ;  her  every  wish  hia 
subject,  and  her  will,  so  masterful  with  others,  th^ 
meek  and  lowly  servant  of  her  strong  but  gentlft 
lord  and  master,  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Siiffolk. 


^ote  by  the  Editor 

Sir  Edwin  Caskoden's  history  differs  in  some  minor 
details  from  other  authorities  of  the  time.  Hall's  chronicle 
says  Sir  William  Brandon,  father  of  Charles,  had  the 
honor  of  being  killed  by  ihe  hand  of  Richard  III  himself, 
at  Bosworth  Field,  and  the  points  wherein  his  account  of 
Charles  Brandon's  life  differs  from  that  of  Sir  Edwin  may 
be  gathered  from  the  index  to  the  1548  edition  of  th»4 
work,  which  is  as  follows: 

Charles  Brandon,  Esquire, 

Is  made  knight, 

Created  Viscount  Lysle, 

Made  duke  of  Suffolke, 

Goeth  to  Paris  to  the  lustes, 

Doeth  valiantly  there, 

Returneth  into  England, 

He  is  sent  into  Fraunce  to  fetch  home  the  French 
quene  into  England, 

He  maryeth  her, 
and  so  on  until 

"He  dyeth  and  is  buryed  at  Wyndcsore." 

No  mention  is  made  in  any  of  the  chronicles  eft  the  office 
of  Master  of  Dance.  In  all  other  essential  respects  Sir 
Edwin  is  corroborated  by  his  contcaiporarics. 


(339) 


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THE   POPULAR   NOVELS  OF 

A.  W.  MARCHMONT 

NOW  OFFERED  IN  HANDSOMELY  MADE 
/CLOTH  BOUND  EDITIONS  AT  LOW  PRICES 

.few  writers  of  recent  years  have  achieved  such  a  wid« 
popularity  in  this  particular  field  as  has  Mr.  Marchmont. 
For  rattling  good  stories  of  love,  intrigue,  adventure, 
plots  and  counter-plots,  we  know  of  nothing  better,  and 
to  the  reader  who  has  become  surfeited  with  the  analyti- 
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eommend  them.  There  is  life,  moprement,  animation, 
on  every  page,  and  for  a  tedious  railway  journey  or  a 
dull  rainy  afternoon,  nothing  could  be  better.  They  will 
make  you  forget  your  troubles. 

The  following  five  volumes  are   now  ready   in  our 
popular  copyright  series: 

BY  RIGHT  OF  SWORD 

With  illustradons  by  Powell  Chasb. 

A  DASH  FOR  A  THRONE 

With  illustrations  by  D.  Murray  Smfth. 

MISER  HOADLEY'S  SECRET 

With  illustrations  by  Clare  AnGelu 

THE  PRICE  OF  FREEDOM       - 

With  illustrations  by  Clark  AngsL3» 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  PERIL 

With  illustrations  by  Edith  Leslie  Lams. 
Large  l  imo  in  size,  handsomely  bound  in  cloth, 
uniform  in  style. 
Price  1^  cents  per   volume,  postpafd. 

GROSSET    &     DUNLAP,    Publishers 

52  Duane  Street ;;  ;;  NEW  YORK 


POPULAR   PRICED   EDITIONS    OF    BOOKS 

Br 

LOUIS    TRACY 

i2mo,  cloth,  75  cents  each,  postpaid 

Books  that  make  the  n«Tves  tingle — romance  and  ad- 
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THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT 

**  Breathless  interest  is  a  hackneyed  phrase,  but  every 
reader  of  ♦  The  Pillar  of  Light  '  who  has  red  blood  in 
his  or  her  veins,  will  agree  that  the  trite  saying  applies  to 
the  attention  which  this  story  commands.  —  New  Tor k  Sun. 

THE  WINGS  OF  THE  MORNING 

**  Here  is  a  story  filled  with  tke  swing  of  adventure. 
There  are  no  dragging  intervals  in  this  volume  :  from  the 
moment  of  their  landing  on  the  island  until  the  rescuing 
crew  find  them  there,  there  is  not  a  dull  moment  for  the 
young  people — nor  for  the  reader  either." — Neto  York 
Times, 

THE  KING  OF  DIAMONDS 

"  Verily,  Mr.  Tracy  is  a  prince  of  story-tellers.  Hit 
charm  it  a  little  hard  to  describe,  but  it  is  as  definite  at 
that  of  a  rainbow.  The  reader  is  carried  along  by  the 
robust  imagination  of  the  author. — San  Francisco  Exam- 
iner. 


GROSSET    &     DUN  LAP,    NEW  YORK 


wmmBotsi 


NEW    EDITIONS    IN    UNIFORM   BINDING 


WORKS  OF 

F.  Marion  Crawford 

izmo.  Cloth,  each  75  cents,  postpaid 

VIA  CRUCIS  :  A   Romance  of  the   Second  Crusade. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Loeb. 

Mr.  Crawford  has  manifestly  brought  his  best  qualities 
OS  a  student  of  history,  and  his  finest  resources  as  a  master 
af  an  original  and  picturesque  style,  to  bear  upon  this  story. 

MR.   ISAACS  :  A  Tale  of  Modern  India. 

Under  an  unpretentious  title  we  have  here  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  novels  that  has  been  given  to  the  world. 

THE  HEART  OF  ROMf'.. 

The  legend  of  a  buried  treasure  under  the  walls  of  the 
palace  of  Conti,  known  to  but  few,  provides  the  frame- 
work for  many  exciting  incidents. 

SARACINESCA 

A  graphic  picture  of  Roman  society  in  the  last  days  of 
the  Pope's  temporal  power. 

SANT'   ILARIO  ;  A  Sequel  to  Saracinesca. 

A  singularly  powerful  and  beautiful  story,  fulfilling  every 
requirement    of  artistic    fiction. 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING  :  A  Love  Story 

of  Old  Madrid.      Illustrated. 

The  imaginative  richness,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  of 
plot,  and  the  charm  of  romantic  environment,  rank  this 
novel  among  the  great  creations. 

■  .'■i.imI 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,     Publishers 
52    DUANE   STREET       ::       ::       NEW   YORK 


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